Flammable Finnigan and The LionHearted Girl
by accioremote7
Summary: A story of the boy who set things on fire and the girl who cried.
1. Prologue

**A/N: **Hello! (please don't throw things at me) I know, I know. I'm already working on two stories, but this plot bunny wouldn't leave me alone!

There is barely any fanfiction about this pairing, and they were one of my first OTPs. Seamus and Lavender. I love them. This is going to be a 9 - 10 chaptered story, one for each year, and then an epilogue and prologue. I hope you enjoy and please please review so I can know that there are actually people who exist out there shipping these two.

This is just a little prologue introducing the two characters. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Prologue**

* * *

(Lavender Brown)

"You're gonna be lovely, Lavender." Your mother says, running the brush through your abnormally long rusty-blond hair. "Absolutely stunning."

Your eyes dart over to her reflection in the ornate vanity mirror. Fingers skate over the jewelry box in front of you, and you smell a familiar smell of flowers, daisies... maybe? The large windows on the right shine morning light in, leaving a light glare on the top of the mirror. A clock ticks softly in the background, and birds chirp in the trees outside. Along the walls are pictures of your mum and dad, standing in suits and beautiful ball gowns and dress robes, and then some alternatively vacation photos, in far away places. A few paintings your mum painted back when she was younger are mounted onto a regal-patterned wall. A feather bed sits in the middle, large and slightly rounded, with cream-colored sheets and delicate canopy overhead.

You cherish these details, it's rare that you get to be in her room. Usually Eloise, the house elf does your hair just as soon as you wake, tying it up in silky pink ribbons.

"Could I look like you mommy?" You ask, the voice of a hopeful nine year old. Mum is the most beautiful woman you've ever met, and you wish that you could look just like her, with her perfectly-curled sunshine blond hair and red lips, and her matching nightie sets. Pink, today, with a matching head wrap.

"I want to be pretty like you."

Her hands slow. Your eyes meet through the reflections of the mirror. "Maybe." She says quietly.

She leans over and sips her glass of liquid, a brownish-red, you don't know what it's called. She drinks it often now. It makes her eyes red and her balance off. You don't like it. You wish she would stop.

"There you go." She says, tying the ribbon on tightly. She pats your back lightly, saying, "Alright, let's see."

You jump up and turn around while staring into the mirror, like you've seen Mum do so many times. She gets up next to you, holding onto your shoulders.

"Beauty is everything, Lavender." She whispers in your ear. "That's the cold hard truth. Be beautiful, and you can get exactly what you want."

"Really?"

"Most of the time." She says, affording you a slight smile.

"Mommy! Let's go play!" You chant, tugging her arm. Maybe today, since she did your hair, that she'll come play too.

But she doesn't.

She lets go loosely, replying, "Maybe tomorrow honey. Run along."

You look at her for another minute, but she retires and climbs into her big, soft feathery bed with the cream-colored covers. As if exactly on cue, Eloise appears at the door, motioning for you to exit.

"Come on Lavender. Mistress Katherine wishes to sleep." Her little voice says. Reluctantly, you leave, catching one more glimpse of your mother's soft hand on the cold glass of brown next to her bed.

* * *

You spend your days in the gardens and meadowes, picking flowers, playing with Binky the rabbit, hiding and seeking with Eloise. There aren't many books around your house, and the closest neighbors are three miles away. So you entertain yourself, thinking up beautiful stories with beautiful princesses and beautiful castles. Everything shines and nothing ever grows old, everything tastes like cake and buildings stand tall, colorful with no cracks. Everyone dances and sings their days away, playing games and reading stories.

Everything is lovely.

And you want so much to be lovely.

* * *

(Seamus Finnigan)

"Valley's beautiful this time a' day." Maddy says as Fina skips ahead in front of you two. Your da sent older cousin Maddy and you into town to get some food from the market, and little cousin Fina tagged along. When you were four, their parents died and they came to live with you and your dad and mam.

You come up from the hill just in time to see the sun beginning it's descent behind the trees to the west.

"S'pose." You reply. Maddy shrugs and continues on the path, red hair shaking as she walked. Suddenly, Fina breaks into a run, giggling.

"Shay, hold this for a mo', will ya?" Maddy asks hurriedly, placing a woven basket of bread to you and tearing after Fina. "Cheers!"

You struggle a little under the weight of the basket, but you don't mind. You hurry after the two girls, though, because you're still not 100% sure of the way home. Belfast is about a mile away, and you've never traveled on your own. But you're brave, you think, puffing out your chest. You fantasize having to slay a dragon on your way home, to save a damsel in distress.

You come out of your thoughts to hear Maddy scream and you drop the basket. On the path ahead, there's a gang of boys from the school, all in Maddy's grade. They look angry and vengeful. You don't like these boys.

An older boy holds Maddy's arm tightly, digging his fingers into her skin. Fina looks around, frightened, and yells, "Seamus help!"

You run quickly over just in time for you to hear the older boy say, "Maybe you'll think twice before ratting us out next time."

They shove Maddy off and she's falls on the ground, scooting away quickly and grabbing Fina's hand.

"Shove off." You say steadily. The older boy, the leader of their little pack turns his head slowly and stares at you like you're a piece of meat. He's bigger than you thought, up close, but you quickly banish that thought from your head. The other boys standing behind him start to laugh, but stop when he holds up his hand.

"An' I s'pose a lil' shit like _you _is gonna make me?" He drawls, stepping closer to you challengingly.

You stand your ground. "If tha's what it takes."

In the end, you get the crap beaten out of you. You put up a valiant fight, punching with your little fists and yelling with your still-unchanged voice. You want, no, you need to stay, to protect little Fina and Maddy. They drop you in the dirt when they get bored, and pedal off on their bikes down the road. Maddy tears you away, and the three of you run home just as night is falling, basket forgotten.

"Seamus, ya really di'nt have ta' do tha'." Maddy pants as you near your house.

"'Course I did." You say, feeling the bruise that is blooming on your cheek.

* * *

You get sent to the Principal's office a little too often than you should at your muggle school. You get into fights, wind up punching another boy, a bigger boy, for that matter. You've got a quick temper, and the other students in your class seem to always be making fun of you and your strange mother. Maybe it's reckless and maybe without teasing you're still the careless boy you always were, but you decide to fight and stick with it. To be brave.

You're not particularly big or skilled, but you fight.

Because you want so much to be strong.

* * *

**Please review!**


	2. Year 1

**Year 1**

* * *

(Lavender Brown)

Your father stares at his watch as you stare, taking in your surroundings. People are bustling around everywhere, so many children and parents and siblings and owls and frogs and trunks and trolleys, everyone kissing each other goodbye, boarding the train.

"It's almost eleven, Lavender, you should get on the train." Your dad says, looking down at you with a forced smile. You hug him quickly, knowing that he probably has to get to a meeting.

"Bye daddy." You say, feeling a little shaky about going somewhere so crowded all on your own.

He waves once, and then moves back through the platform wall.

You take a deep breath, square your shoulders, and march straight onto the train.

Once inside, you're mesmerized by everything. The older students are playing with some sort of sparks, and it's making fireworks across the halls. A symphony of laughter, chatter, hoots, and ribbits fill the air, along with the choo of the train.

You get to a compartment that doesn't look like it's filled with older kids, and sit down.

Inside are two twin girls, a boy with brown skin, and a boy with sandy hair and light blue-green eyes, unwrapping a pack of licorice loudly.

"Hi!" One of the twins say, and you're happy to find some girls your own age who are nice.

"Hello." You say with confidence, because mum says confidence is everything. "I'm Lavender Brown."

"I'm Parvati, and this is my sister Padma." The twin on the right says, smiling largely at you.

"My names Dean Thomas." The boy says, smiling at you as well. You try to smile back, because he seems like a really nice boy.

The other boy holds his grimy hand out to you, saying "I'm Seamus Finnigan." His accent is strange, you've never heard it before, and you crinkle up your nose at him. You lightly shake his hand.

He looks at the other boy, rolls his eyes, and starts stuffing his face again.

You don't think you particularly like this boy.

* * *

Your first view of the castle renders you speechless. You were a little afraid of getting into the boats, you've always had a resistance to water, but your first glance up was amazing enough for the fear to melt away.

It looks beautiful, just like the castle in your imagination. Tall towers, reaching up and scraping the night sky, hundreds of gleaming windows with lights on, making it looking like bunches of fireflies were swarming the place.

You are the princess and this is your castle.

* * *

The sorting ceremony begins, and you can feel sparks shooting out of your toes, you're so excited. Your mum was educated by her mum at home, but her father attended Hogwarts and was a Slytherin, though you're not sure you want to go to that house. You stand expectantly, for you know your name will called close to the beginning, starting with "B".

Finally, you hear the woman who is called Professor McGonagall's Scottish lilted voice call out, "Brown, Lavender."

With shaking hands, you wish you weren't so nervous, you climb up on the big stool. The old, brown hair is fitted on your head, situating itself.

"Now, right. Let's see. I sense much pride in this mind, as well as manipulative character traits... you could fit in Slytherin... You've got quite a lot of boldness for a young girl, and quite a lot of bravery... I'd say... GRYFFINDOR!"

You shrink yourself off the stool and move over to the table where students and cheering, wearing crests with lions on them. You sit next to an older girl, who smiles kindly at you and moves down the bench for you to sit, and introduces herself to you as "Katie Bell".

Many other older students smile at you, and you're glad you got sorted into this house.

* * *

You hurry up into your dormitory with the girl you sat with on the train (the twin named Parvati). You see your two trunks arranged at the foot of one of the beds, next to a girl named Fay's trunk.

Parvati flops onto the bed next to yours, her trunks must be the dark green ones.

Three other girls come up the stairs cautiously, looking for their things. A girl with long, stick-straight brown hair and blue eyes glided over to the bed next to yours. You watch her sit down on the bed slowly, and look around the room.

"Hi, I'm Fay." She says to you, voice higher than you've ever heard someone speak before.

"I'm Lavender."

"I'm Patricia. But you can just call me Patty." A voice says from across the room. It belongs to a slightly chubby girl with auburn hair, threaded into two braids.

The girl with big bushy brown hair sits down where her trunk had been placed and brushes off her school skirt. "My name's Hermione Granger."

"And I'm Parvati!" Parvati exclaims, making Fay and Patty giggle.

The bed that you'll be sleeping in is different from the one you have at home, with it's sparkly headboard and canopy, like your mum's. It's got deep crimson bed curtains, which is good. You scoot yourself back and push your legs under the covers. You're tired from the stressful and nerve-wracking day, but deep down you're so glad to be around so many girls your own age. Besides Eloise, you don't remember playing with anyone else. You hope you make friends.

* * *

You sit with Parvati and Padma in classes, writing your notes in girly script and drawing flowers in the margins. Classes are ok, not too hard. You don't really like potions, Professor Snape is scary. Transfiguration is fun, you suppose, and so is Charms.

When Seamus Finnigan blows up his feather in Charms, you crack up. He looks so genuinely shocked, his hair standing up, face black from ash.

You spend most of the year waiting for him to blow something else up.

You find that you don't really get Quidditch, instead you use the extra time to walk around the grounds and pick flowers, it keeps you from feeling homesick.

* * *

The year progresses, and naturally, you and Parvati become best friends. You giggle at everything with her, she teaches you how to press flowers so you can keep them for longer.

You begin to dislike Seamus Finnigan. He's rude and crass and loud and is constantly tugging on your hair, just to annoy you.

Besides making fun of him every time a potion blows up in his face, the two of you mostly avoid each other.

Boys are gross, anyway.

* * *

You look for your dad at the station, but all you see is your cook named Mrs. Leach, and Eloise the house elf. You're so disappointed you might cry, but you don't, because Eloise beats herself when you cry.

So you smile at Mrs. Leach, even though she is mean and smells like rotting eggs, and turn to Eloise.

"Come along Miss Lavender, we have a portkey for exactly ten minutes from now!"

* * *

(Seamus Finnigan)

"Be good, lad_, _and good luck." Dad says, patting you on the back and handing you your trunk. Ferguson nods at you, shoving you forward to Maddy. People are moving past your little huddle of Finnigans, staring strangely at everyone crowding around the wall between platform 9 and platform 10.

"See ya' Shay." Maddy says, stepping up and hugging you tightly.

Fina hugs you next, holding on a little too long whispering in your ear, "I'll miss you Shay."

Your mam grabs your hand, and leads you over right in front of the wall. Against your better judgement, you run with her straight into the column, and end up staring at a huge, red train with white smoke, the smell of old wood and sugar and steam in the air. Hoards of people with carts full of luggage, along with broomsticks and different animals fly past you, all congregating around the doors onto the train.

"Now, Shay, I'll not have ya' gettin' inta trouble or messin' about." Mam says, adjusting your collar. You're a little nervous now, you've never been without your mam anywhere. "Listen ta' yer teachers, and try ta' do yer best."

She hugs you tightly, and you think about not letting go. But you can't wait to go to Hogwarts, all the stories your mum's told you about Hogwarts and witches and wizards and potions and magical creatures makes you excited beyond belief. The only other magical person besides her you've been around is Ferguson, and he went to Draíochta, a magical school in southern Ireland.

"Go on." She says, pushing you towards the train lightly. With one more nervous smile, you step onto the train, dragging your trunk with you.

You find yourself an empty compartment, stash your trunk, and sit down. You watch people walk by through the windows, but no one comes to talk to you. Until a boy with dark skin and a shirt with a football in the corner pokes his head in.

"Hi!" You say.

"Uh... hi." the boy says. "Is anyone sitting here?"

"Nah, jus' me." You say.

He sits down. The two of you start talking about trivial things like your names and where you're from. He talks about soccer and you tell him about Quidditch. You're just into telling him all about how Ireland's team has just started recruiting when a pair of twins with long black hair ask if they can sit with you.

"'Course." Dean says, switching benches and sitting next to you. The two girl sit down and start whispering to each other about something, before saying that their names are Parvati and Padma Patil.

Soon after them, a girl wearing all pink and two trunks opens you compartment and sits down next to the girl you think is Padma. She's got long blond hair pulled up in a pink ribbon, and has an air of confidence and snobbishness around her.

"Hi!" one of the twins says.

"Hello." The girl says, voice commanding and brash. "I'm Lavender Brown."

She looks like the dolls Fina plays with, you think. Her nose is stuck in the air as she listens to everyone introduce themselves.

"I'm Seamus Finnigan." You say, holding out your hand. She looks at it as if it's a dead fish and shakes it daintily.

Sharing a look with Dean Thomas, you decide that you don't like this girl very much.

* * *

You cling to the bow of the little boat, tipping it, making the two girls that are in it with you protest and tell you to cut it out.

The castle is so big in comparison to you, so full of life and magic. You're dumbstruck at the sheer magnitude of it, sitting atop a large hill.

You turned back excitedly, saying, "Wow!" To anyone that would listen.

* * *

You can't help noticing that the Sorting Hat has been on your head for a while, longer some of the other kids that have gone.

"You have a kind heart, though do not demonstrate it often. You care for many. Yet, I sense also a quick temper... that can be telling as well. Is there a house you don't want to go?" The hat asks.

"Slytherin." You think. "Not Slytherin." You remember what your mam told you, about all the wizards in Slytherin house going bad.

"Mmmmm." The sorting hat says. "Yes, you would not benefit from being a Slytherin, I believe. You do not possess the ruthless quality that makes you believe that what you want justifies what you do to get to it. Very strong moral values, I sense. Brave, for such a small child. You long to be strong, to defend... well, then, it seems I have made my decision. Better be... GRYFFINDOR!" The hat roars.

The returning Gryffindors clap and hoot loudly. You jump up off the stool and run over the table of red and gold, where Dean and one of the girls that were in your boat, Hermione Granger, is sitting. The girl called Lavender Brown is sitting there too, and to your surprise she's clapping along with everyone else.

The sorting ends, and you find that the new Gryffindors along with you is Dean, Hermione, Lavender, the boy who lost his toad on the train (you think he's called Neville), a girl named Fay, another girl named Patricia, the boy with the red hair Ron Weasley, and famous Harry Potter!

You talk with everyone during the feast (the food is delicious, as good as Mam's cooking), and the nerves you had earlier that day have completely melted.

"Oh, hello Sir Nicholas." The boy called Percy says, greeting a ghost that was floating by.

"I know you, you're Nearly-Headless Nick!" Ron says, pointing at him with a chicken wing. The ghost looks extremely affronted.

"Nearly Headless? How can you be Nearly Headless?" You yell.

The ghost glares at you momentarily and then shrugs. "Like this." He says, and proceeds to pull off his head from his neck.

"Ah!" The girl Lavender cries and shuts her eyes. You roll your eyes at her, she's exactly like those girls that used to yell at him when he accidentally got dirt on them during recess or shouted too loud or didn't tuck in his shirt at school.

* * *

You manage to blow up your feather during Charms, and it catches on fire, only to have Harry put it out with his hat. This, unfortunately, is not a one-time incident, and you begin to get a little bit of a reputation for setting fire to things. You have to beg Dean to be your partner every class.

Even the time Neville melts your cauldron during potions (which is with Professor Snape, the meanest and greasiest teacher at Hogwarts), some are convinced you did it.

* * *

Flying classes are great, you think.

You brag about all the time you spent flying around a couple miles from the village, but in reality you went with Maddy, and Harry Potter ends up being about to fly eons better than you.

* * *

You like Gryffindor. You cheer on Harry at his first Quidditch game, because he's only a first year and made the house team! They're killing them out there, though, and Slytherin is not playing fair.

"SEND HIM OFF, REF! READ CARD!" Dean shouts.

"It's not football, Dean, you can't send people off in Quidditch." Ron says from next to him. "And what's a red card?"

At that moment, Harry is tearing after the snitch, and you sit at the front of your seat.

When he practically spits the snitch out from his mouth and Gryffindor wins, you shout and yell and pump your fist into the air along with everyone in your house.

You love Quidditch.

* * *

The year progresses, and obviously, you and Dean become best friends. You still don't like that girl Lavender, she always crinkles up her nose at you. You pull on her ponytail, like any other eleven year old boy would.

You form a slightly antagonistic relationship, but apart from that, you don't really interact with her.

Girls have cooties, anyway.

* * *

"...an' Professor Quirrell, dark arts teacher, the one who stutters 'lot, he was tryin' ta steal the stone... dunno what it does, but 'en Harry fought him!" You tell your mam excitedly when she picks you up at the station.

She smiles down at you fondly, like she doesn't quite believe what you're telling her, but isn't going to question it. "So I take it ya' like Hogwarts?"

You grin.

* * *

**A/N: **This chapter is quite short, just because this is still sort of an introduction. Also, I'm taking slight creative license, because according to the HP Lexicon, there's an unnamed fifth girl that's a Gryffindor in Harry's Year, so I just named her Patty.

Hope you enjoyed, **please review**!


	3. Year 2

**Year 2**

* * *

(Seamus Finnigan)

You say goodbye to your family hurriedly, excited to get back to Hogwarts, your mam hurriedly calling, "An' try not ta' start any more fires!"

You spot Dean on the platform, and the two of you hurry to grab a compartment, along with Neville trailing after the two of you.

You act like you're already an old pro, sliding past the nervous and unsure first years like you own the place. Though (of course) you get dirty looks from the older Slytherins you bump into in your haste to find a seat.

* * *

The first Defense Against the Dark Arts class of the year is something to remember. You've got this new Professor, who introduces himself as Gilderoy Lockhart.

You think he seems like a fraud the moment you meet him, along with most of the other boys in your class. On the first day he gives you a bloody test, for god's sake! Facts all about him, no less. By the time he gets around to talking about his preferred birthday presents, you and Dean are barely controlling your laughter.

After reviewing the rest of the answers, he bent down behind his desk and lifted a large, covered cage onto it.

"Now - be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm." Lockhart placed a hand on the cover. Your laughter dies down and Neville is practically cowering in his seat.

"I must ask you not to scream," said Lockhart in a low voice. "It might provoke them!"

As the whole class held its breath, Lockhart whipped off the cover.

"Yes," he said dramatically. "Freshly caught Cornish pixies. "

_Pixies? _That's his idea of the foulest creatures known to wizard kind? That's pathetic! You were expecting something exciting, but instead he brings _pixies? _The little creatures that live in the forests near your village?

You let out a snort of laughter, not being about to control yourself.

"Yes?" Professor Lockhart says, grinning down at you, making you immediately regret laughing. Mam told you not to get in trouble, and she was already angry about the fires you made last year accidentally. And you reckon laughing at a teacher is a little different than blowing up a feather.

"Well, they're not - they're not very - dangerous, are they?" You choke out.

"Don't be so sure!" said Lockhart, waggling a finger annoyingly at you. "Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!"

The pixies were electric blue and about eight inches high, with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to a lot of budgies arguing. Now that you think about it, maybe the tosser was right... they did look a lot scarier up close. The moment the cover had been removed, they had started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and making strange faces everyone.

"Right, then," Lockhart said loudly, twisting the lock on the cage. "Let's see what you make of them!"

Freed from their restraint, pixies filled the air, squealing and flying around at top speed. Two of them seized Neville by the ears and lifted him into the air, legs flailing and voice wobbling "...let me down!". You and Dean both dove under the desk, shouting in alarm, until three pixies grabbed Dean's bag and flew off with it, prompting Dean to chase after them yelling, "Give that back!"

"Come on now - round them up, round them up, they're only pixies," Lockhart shouted.

There was shattering at the back of the class, and you turned and saw that a fair many of them had simply broken the window and escaped. The rest that were left grabbed ink bottles and sprayed the class with them, shredded books and papers, tore pictures from the walls. It gave you momentary happiness to see one smash a photo of Lockhart grinning supposedly charmingly, but then you heard thumping on the top of your desk. Grabbing your things and scooting under the desk behind you, you were met with the frightened eyes of Lavender Brown.

Oh great.

Within a second, a pixie grabbed hold of one of her dark blond curls.

"Ah!" She screamed loudly right into your ear. "Seamus, get it off! Get it off!"

Panicked, you grabbed a book from above the desk and smacked it off her, making the pixie soar through the air and land on a desk across the room.

"Thanks." She said hurriedly, and you nodded your head, tugging your things a little farther under the desk.

The bell rang and the both of you scramble out from under the desk. Practically crashing into Dean, the two of you shove your way out the door and into the pixie-free hallway.

"What the bloody hell!" You say, catching your breath. "What's he thinking, lettin' those loose?"

"Didn't you say they weren't very dangerous?" Dean says, laughing loudly.

You mockingly glare at him, punching his arm. "Shut up."

* * *

You manage to go an entire month without blowing anything up, but unfortunately when faced with practicing "Tergeo!", you end up with somewhere between a first and second degree burn.

"Mr. Finnigan," Professor Flitwick says tiredly. "you're going to need to go to the hospital wing. Can anyone take him?"

No one appears to be listening.

"Oh, Miss Brown, yes come here." Flitwick says, beckoning the girl over. "You've finished your work, yes?"

"Yes sir, I've wiped it clean." Lavender says pridefully.

"Would you mind taking Mr. Finnigan here to the hospital wing?"

He must be kidding!

Lavender looks at you disdainfully, but then smiles at the Professor. "No, not at all."

The two of you set off, her walking purposefully with her arms crossed ahead of you. You walk slower, meandering after her, and feeling your face beginning to ache.

"Would you hurry up?" She calls back to you impatiently.

You roll your eyes, and she waits for you at the end of the hall expectantly. The both of you walk next to each other now, you're sulking because you wish Dean had taken you.

"How come you're always blowing stuff up?" She suddenly asks.

"Not always." You mutter. She raises an eyebrow at you judgmentally, but just continues on walking with her nose in the air.

"They should call you fire Finnigan... no, no _flammable_ Finnigan!" She says, laughing to herself. If it had been any other person any other time, you probably would have laughed your head off. But it isn't, it's just snobby Lavender.

"What about you?" You shoot back, and she immediately looks extremely affronted. "Your name is two colors. _Lavender Brown_."

She just rolls her eyes. "Whatever flammable Finnigan. I'll see you later." She says, and you suddenly realize you've ended up in front of the hospital wing.

She skips off down the hall, leaving you staring after her.

* * *

History of Magic was, without a doubt, the most boring class in the world. Usually you could manage by sleeping through it, which was what you were intending to do, before conversation that day got much more interesting.

As usual, Hermione was the only one half-engaged in the ghost Professor Binns' lecture, so it was a common occurrence for her hand to be in the air.

Professor Binns acknowledged her. "Miss - er -?"

"Granger, Professor. I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets," said Hermione in a clear voice.

Dean, who had been sitting with his mouth hanging open, gazing out of the window, jerked out of his trance, along with most in the room, and you heard Neville's elbow slide off the side of his desk painfully. The entire class was suddenly jolted to attention. Ever since Filch's cat had been found supposedly dead, everyone had been wondering about hidden dangers in Hogwarts.

Professor Binns only blinked.

"My subject is History of Magic," he said in his dry, wheezy voice. "I deal with facts, Miss Granger, not myths and legends." He cleared his throat with a small noise like chalk s!-ping and continued, "In September of that year, a subcommittee of Sardinian sorcerers -"

Hermione's hand shot into the air again.

"Miss Grant?"

Hermione persisted. "Please, sir, don't legends always have a basis in fact?"

Professor Binns looked fully taken aback, prompting you to share a snicker with Dean. You don't think anyone had ever interrupted in all his hundred years of teaching.

"Well," said Professor Binns slowly, "Yes, one could argue that, I suppose." He peered at Hermione as though he had never seen a student properly before. "However, the legend of which you speak is such a very sensational, even ludicrous tale -"

You can't help but think the only reason he kept talking is because he had never had this level of interest in his class before.

"Oh, very well," he said slowly. "Let me see ... the Chamber of Secrets ... You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago - the precise date is uncertain - by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. The four school Houses are named after them: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. They built this castle together, far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution."

The class seemed to be hanging on his every word.

"For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be educated. But then disagreements sprang up between them. A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy. After a while, there was a serious argument on the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school."

You can't help but think how obvious that was. Slytherin was full of slimy gits, of course they would be prejudice like that. You glanced over at Dean, who you knew was muggleborn, but were surprised that you never thought twice about it. Obviously it was a big deal if this Salazar Slytherin bloke left a school he created.

"Reliable historical sources tell us this much," he said. "But these honest facts have been obscured by the fanciful legend of the Chamber of Secrets. The story goes that Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing. Slytherin, according to the legend, sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic."

When he finished, the class was dead silent, and not the sleepy, hazy silence of bored children, but the uneasiness of the story that had just been told. Professor Binns suddenly looked really irritated.

"The whole thing is arrant nonsense, of course," he said. "Naturally, the school has been searched for evidence of such a chamber, many times, by the most learned witches and wizards. It does not exist. A tale told to frighten the gullible."

Luckily, Hermione's hand was back in the air.

"Sir - what exactly do you mean by the 'horror within' the Chamber?" She asked.

"That is believed to be some sort of monster, which the Heir of Slytherin alone can control," said Professor Binns in his dry, reedy voice.

The class exchanged nervous looks.

"I tell you, the thing does not exist," said Professor Binns scoldingly, shuffling his notes. "There is no Chamber and no monster."

"But, sir," You pipe up, "if the Chamber can only be opened by Slytherin's true heir, no one else would be able to find it, would they?"

"Nonsense, O'Flaherty," said Professor Binns in an aggravated tone. "If a long succession of Hogwarts headmasters and headmistresses haven't found the thing -"

"But, Professor," Parvati protested from across the room, "you'd probably have to use Dark Magic to open it -"

"Just because a wizard doesn't use Dark Magic doesn't mean he can't, Miss Pennyfeather," snapped Professor Binns. "I repeat, if the likes of Dumbledore -"

"But maybe you've got to be related to Slytherin, so Dumbledore couldn't -" began Dean, but Professor Binns had had enough.

"That will do," he said sharply. "It is a myth! It does not exist! There is not a shred of evidence that Slytherin ever built so much as a secret broom cupboard! I regret telling you such a foolish story! We will return, if you please, to history, to solid, believable, verifiable fact!"

And Professor Binns regressed into his usual droning.

* * *

"They're starting a dueling club! First meeting's tonight, I wouldn't mind dueling lessons, they might come in handy one of these days..." You say to Dean, looking at the advertisement that Lockhart set up. Even though it is Lockhart, you figure if you're going to battle a Slytherin, or even any so-called 'horrors' that live in that chamber, you're going to need lessons.

You and Dean decide to go.

You get partnered up with Ron, who promptly knocks you off his feet.

It's all fun and games until Harry starts talking to the snake. The entire room goes silent as you watch Harry approach the snake, from where it was looking a bit like it was going to attack Justin Finch-Fletchey. And suddenly, Harry just starts making hissing and spitting sounds, looking as if he's urging the snake on!

You cut your eyes at Dean, who's looking fearfully between Harry and Justin.

That's when it all begins.

* * *

The year ends, once again being saved by Harry Potter. Dean, luckily, had not been one of the muggleborns to have been petrified. You spent the duration of the semester insisting on going everywhere with him, just so he would never be alone. The two of you got a lot closer that year.

* * *

(Lavender Brown)

"Isn't he just _flawless?" _Patty whispers, letting her cheek fall to her hand.

Professor Lockhart clears his throat, smiling that charming smile. "All right, pass your tests back."

"His perfection _hurts_ to look at." Parvati replies, handing back the test they just took.

You're infuriated, because you really didn't know what his favorite color was, and that was absolutely crucial because then you'll know what color headband you should wear.

"Tut, tut - hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac." Your breath catches in your throat, because lilac is surprisingly close to _lavender, _and Parvati elbows you in the stomach excitedly. "I say so in Year with the Yeti. And a few of you need to read Wanderings with Werewolves more carefully - I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples - though I wouldn't say no to a large bottle of Ogdeds Old Firewhisky!"

You feel your heart flutter, because he's just so handsome and interesting and _mature._

". . . but Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair-care potions - good girl! In fact..." Professor Lockhart flipped her paper over. "full marks! Where is Miss Hermione Granger?"

You and Parvati exchange a look of envy, and you're practically seething in your seat.

Hermione raised a trembling hand.

"Excellent!" beamed Lockhart. "Quite excellent! Take ten points for Gryffindor! And so - to business -"

He bent down behind his desk and lifted up a big covered cage.

"Now - be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm."

Finally, all the boys in the class (who were being extremely rude and immature, and not paying attention previously) leaned forward in their seats to get a better look at the cage.

"I must ask you not to scream," said Lockhart in a low voice. "It might provoke them."

As the whole class held its breath, Lockhart whipped off the cover.

"_Yes_," Professor Lockhart said. "Freshly caught Cornish pixies. "

You hear a loud, rude snort, and sure enough, you turn your head back to see that the noise came from Seamus Finnigan. Of course.

"Yes?" Professor Lockhart inquired.

Seamus suddenly looked a little bashful. "Well, they're not - they're not very - dangerous, are they?" Seamus choked.

"Don't be so sure!" said Lockhart. "Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!"

The pixies were electric blue and about eight inches high, with pointed faces and voices shrill enough to hurt everyone's ears. They were grasping and reaching and clawing the air outside the cage against the bars. Their faces were pointed and small, their ears a bit larger than their heads.

"Right, then," Lockhart said loudly, puffing out his chest in a way that looked _oh so attractive._ "Let's see what you make of them!" And he opened the cage.

The pixies were all out of the cage in a moment flat, shooting in every direction. Somewhere behind you there was the sound of glass shattering, and you jumped for cover under the nearest desk. Parvati crawled under the desk with you before you heard Patty scream loudly, making Parvati drag her under the desk and attempt to comb out the giant nott the pixies had wound with her hair. Pixies were tearing up everything, dropping things to the ground as heard as their spindly arms could.

"Come on now - round them up, round them up, they're only pixies," You heard Lockhart shout.

You momentarily jump out from the desk, to maybe help Professor Lockhart. Unfortunately, you take all of two steps before a pixie swarms in between your legs, causing you to fall and slide under a different desk, almost slamming straight into rude Seamus Finnigan.

Within seconds of meeting his eyes, you feel something tugging hard at a piece of your hair.

He grabs a book from on top of the desk, raising it as high above his head as he can manage under the desk, and smacks the pixie, making it fall through the air and onto the top of a desk far away from the one you're under.

"Thanks." You say quickly, and he nodded his head, tugging his things a little farther under the desk.

* * *

Of course Seamus Finnigan blows something else up. He's always doing that.

Unfortunately, it's you who has to walk him to the hospital wing this time. He's looking at you as if you smell of dead frogs, making you want to squash him like a bug. That rude boy.

The two of you walk out, him walking almost as slow as humanly possible, and you're sure it's just to annoy you.

"Would you hurry up?" You call back to him impatiently.

You wait at the end of the hall, tapping your foot as he rolls his eyes at you and makes a rude scoff. You're so irritated, he's just so powerfully messy and annoying and loud and rude.

"How come you're always blowing stuff up?" You ask, letting your hand run along the stone walls.

"Not always." You hear him mutter.

It's your turn to roll your eyes at him now. "They should call you fire Finnigan... no, no _flammable_ Finnigan!" You say, allowing yourself to laugh at his expense.

"What about you?" He says loudly, wiping his face quickly. "Your name is two colors. _Lavender Brown_."

You're finally at the entrance to the hospital wing, and you couldn't be more glad. Finally you'll get to go back to Charms. "Whatever flammable Finnigan. I'll see you later." You say, choosing not to fight with him anymore.

You skip off down the hall and hope that his burn lasts a long time, because the git deserves it.

* * *

The end of the year feast is delicious as always. All the muggleborns that had been petrified are all better now, and everyone says that Harry Potter killed the monster that was attacking them. You feel completely relieved, because now you can actually sleep instead of pulling the covers up to your chin and having nightmares about a big monster coming and gobbling you up in your sleep.

You're excited to get back home, because your mum and dad promised that they'd be home all summer, and that the family might all go on vacation.

Giggling with Parvati over the older boy who pecked an older girl on the cheek, you dig into your food. You'll be sure to write Parvati about the amazing summer you'll have.

* * *

**A/N: **Hi! So again, sort of short, just because they're still young and it's like EW COOTIES. The next chapter should be up soon!

Any direct dialogue you recognize is taken from canon ("Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets" by J. K. Rowling), no copyright infringement intended.

**_Please review!_**


	4. Year 3

**Year 3**

* * *

(Lavender Brown)

You begin to look at boys now.

Over the summer you've found you've grown the beginning of curves. You hope you'll grow a lot more, be like your mum, with a full and curvaceous body. Maybe you'll be able to borrow her dresses, wear them without feeling like you're swimming in them.

Your parents took you to the beach, where you wore that skimpy bathing suit and you felt the hot stares of boys for the first time.

You wonder what kissing would be like, too.

You've always had your epics, your grand stories of love. But this is different, this is hormones, and you long to lock lips. You convince yourself that there's a boy in Hogwarts that simply must be your prince, and if you've got to kiss a few frogs to get to them, well, you will.

* * *

Third year definitely brings changes.

You realize that besides you and Patty, no one else has grown much. It makes you feel a little uncomfortable, until you're sitting in a compartment with the girls and a cute fifth year winks at you.

And you begin to realize what your mother meant by beauty can get you anything.

* * *

"What do you see, Miss Brown?" Professor Trelawney says, coming up behind you and Parvati's table. Staring into the tea cup, trying to make sense of the tea leaves, you rack your mind for what a bat represents.

You're in divination, and while all the boys in your class (plus Hermione) make fun of it, you listen and take it seriously. You actually begin to like it quite a bit.

"Erm, well, she's got what looks like the sun, which symbolizes happiness?" You ask tentatively. "But then she also has a thick line running across, which symbolizes a journey, possibly within self."

"Let me see." Professor Trelawney says, taking the cup and tilting it different ways. "Yes Miss Brown, that is a completely accurate reading. Well done."

You beam up at her, and listen to Parvati ask her about foxes and what they represent.

* * *

You scour your star charts, stay up late into the night. Professor Trelawney is inspirational to you, you wish you had her gift to see into the future.

Divination is your new favorite subject, your head's always been a little in the stars. You love the idea of fate and worldly magic like that, futures and pasts and the planets aligning. You search, looking for answers for questions like when will you get married, and how many kids will you have.

You learn as much as you can, reading up on star charts and tea leaves.

* * *

Nathan Banks, a Ravenclaw from the year above you, asks you out. He's got dark brown hair perfectly coiffed and a smirky smile, thoroughly full of that pretty-boy quality you've convinced yourself your partial to. So you say yes.

You have a good time. You giggle at appropriate times, hold his hand as you walk through the village. He snogs you outside, in the alley behind the Three Broomsticks.

His lips are soft and rhythmic. His cool, smooth hands snake around your back, caressing. He's definitely done this more than once. You screw your eyes shut, try to focus on what you're doing. Moving your lips against his and trying to mirror his actions. Before you know it, his tongue slips into your mouth, and now you're not exactly sure what to do. But you like the feeling, so you don't stop him, and try to do whatever he's doing. You realize you're not doing anything with your hands, so you try to maneuver them up into his hair, but end up sort of poking him in the head.

He pulls away abruptly, but grins largely.

Kissing is great, you decide.

* * *

You're enthralled with the way you seem to be able to control boys now.

You've got a little more than most of the girls in your grade, and everyone has seemed to notice. You've learned to angle yourself _just so, _and you wear one less button buttoned than all the other girls. You learn to swing your hips when you walk, bat your eyelashes, giggle whenever a boy thinks they've said something funny, and the correct way to put on lip gloss.

Boys stare at you constantly, and the brave ones ask you out left and right, and you find yourself in Hogsmeade every visit. Parvati and you pull the curtains shut around her bed and laugh over Witch Weekly articles like "Ten Ways To Make Your Man Shiver With Pleasure!" and "Performing Glamour Charms: Five Common Mistakes".

You hear people call you ditzy, but you don't really care, because you catch those same boys looking at you hungrily, and those same girls looking at you with obvious envy.

You put on your makeup every morning and wish that you were older, that your shirt was just a little tighter, skirt just a little shorter (really you long to feel beautiful and mature).

Hermione Granger silently judges as you do your hair each morning, and as you situate your chest so that it looks bigger than it is. You don't care, because all she cares about are top marks and being the best in the class, something that you're never be.

* * *

Professor Trelawney predicts that on the sixteenth of October, something will happen that you've been dreading. You are fearful when you wake that day, put on your favorite pair of underwear, take a little extra time on your hair.

Then, during breakfast, you get news that Binky the rabbit had been eaten by a fox.

The news hits you hard. You might be the tiniest bit smug because this certainly proves that Trelawney _is _a seer, but on top of that you just cry.

It hurts. This is Binky, your one companion besides Eloise back home. All those times your mother left you out to play by yourself, Binky was there. In all your infinite dramatics, part of you marks this as the day your childhood ended.

* * *

You leave class that day quickly, holding your books tightly to your chest. You just want to get back to your room so you can shut your curtains and cry some more. Not that you've ever had a problem crying in public, but your head is starting to hurt, and you'd prefer if you got to lay down.

And then Seamus Finnigan catches up and starts walking next to you.

You stop abruptly, and whine, "Oh, what do you _want _Flammable Finnigan?"

He looks nervous for a second, and now you're intrigued by what he's going to say. He takes a breath, and says quickly, "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry about your rabbit."

You're shocked for a solid moment. But then you crumble, and before you know it, you're crying on his shirt. No, not crying, more like sobbing. You can feel he's trying to stand as still as he can, and it almost makes you want to laugh.

Students flood the hallway, and he gingerly steps away from you. Then he looks away, fast. "Sorry, I can't be late for Transfiguration tutoring again."

And he practically runs down the hall. You're more confused than ever.

* * *

You let your head rest on the cot as you pull your blanket closer against you. The Great Hall is colder than it is during the day, and Parvati is already asleep next to you. You can hear a murmur of voices, probably teachers' as they walk through.

You're really scared. Sirius Black _the murderer _was inside the castle. Just the sound of his name gives you the creeps.

You turn over, noisily kicking at the sheets, and your gaze falls on the open eyes in front of you.

"Couldn't sleep either?" Seamus' green-blue eyes say.

"It's not exactly easy when there's possibly a murderer lurking around the castle." You huff, pulling your blankets up to your chin.

He laughs quietly. This is actually the first time you've directly spoken to him this entire year, besides that one time after Binky died and you sobbed into his shirt. He looks the same as last year, small and short for his age. His face is boyish, and hair is messed up everywhere. You squint in the dark and can make out a smudge of what you think is mud across his cheek.

"Well, we've got Dumbledore with us. Black'd never challenge him." Seamus says, and it makes you feel a little more relieved. Though he makes fun of Divination mercilessly, much to your chagrin, he's been kind to you this year. He hasn't teased you directly, and there was that one time when he saved you from getting hurt by that Blast Ended Skrewt. Come to think of it, he really has been humane to you this year.

"Yeah, I guess so." You say, and watch his eyes smile at you. He's got really nice eyes, you think.

You fall asleep that night turned towards him, just because somewhere deep in your fresh and naive heart, you think he'd protect you from anything that came to get you. Even if he isn't really a prince-type.

* * *

(Seamus Finnigan)

The year starts like the one before, despite the fact that Mam is constantly on about Sirius Black.

"The Prophet says tha' they're goin' ta have Dementors at ev'ry entrance, but just in case... in some terrible accident he manages ta' get near ya', you've gotta promise me tha' you won't do anythin' stupid. No doin' what you usually do, tryin' ta save everyone." She says, thrusting a pile of folded clothes at you, which you throw in your trunk.

"Mam, that's Harry's job." You joke, thinking about him slaying the Basilisk last year.

She grabs your cheeks, and kisses your forehead forcefully. "Jus'... try yer best ta' not get hurt."

* * *

Third year begins. You're happy to be back at Hogwarts once more, hanging with Dean every day, painfully glad Lockhart is gone now. Dean grows almost six inches, you're still shorter than most of the boys in your grade.

Returning from a summer of flying around the countryside with Fergus, you look forward to the new classes you'll have, particularly Care of Magical Creatures. Dean tugs you into a compartment and drops his trunk.

"Did you see Lavender Brown?" He asks. You shrug.

"No, why?"

"She got fit over the summer."

You shrug again. "She's a right pain, though."

Dean drops the subject and starts discussing the new Quidditch season, which you jump into whole heartedly. You'd rather not talk about annoying Lavender Brown or whether or not she got "fit".

* * *

You like Care of Magical Creatures, especially with Hagrid teaching. Divination, however, is boring and infuriating. You can't seem to "see" anything but clumps of leftover tea leaves. Dean has a similar feeling on it, so the two of you spend the time making up their futures like Ron and Harry do.

Lavender, in all her quality, of course, loves it. You roll your eyes constantly as she insists that the planets will be in alignment in time for exams, meaning that she'll have good luck. You doubt Trelawney's prediction of the grim in Harry's teacup, and immediately receive a scowl from Lavender, as well as a head shake from Parvati.

Your steady dislike of her continues, as she insists that she'd rather study unicorns than something cool (though after you'd been stung for the third time by one of those Blast Ended Skrewts, you begin to wish the same). And she's always _giggling, _which is just plain annoying.

* * *

You have to confront your boggart in front of the entire class during Defense Against the Dark Arts. You thought you liked the class, just simply because Lockhart isn't teaching it (the new teacher is Professor Lupin, who actually seems sort of awesome)... but now you're not so sure.

It takes the form of a banshee and starts screeching incessantly. It brings you back to those stories you heard when you were a lad from people in the village about banshees and how their scream is fatal...

You gulp, summon up all the courage you can, and shout "Riddikulus!" Her voice is stripped away and you feel relief flood down to your toes.

"Very good Mr. Finnigan, very good. Next!" Professor Lupin says, and you turn and walk back to your desk. As you're walking back, you think you see Lavender smiling at you, but when you look again she's just whispering to Parvati.

* * *

She's crying at breakfast. She cried last year, but those were quick and relatively painless to watch. This time, she's sitting up the Gryffindor table, surrounded by the other Gryffindor girls, clutching a letter to her chest and sobbing. You're unpleasantly surprised to find that this actually makes your stomach hurt, makes it physically uncomfortable to watch her cry so hard.

"Her pet rabbit died." Dean tells you, buttering some toast. "Now she's claiming that Trelawney's predictions have to be true, since Trelawney said that Lavender would receive news about something she was dreading on the sixteenth of October."

You shrug, but can't stop yourself from looking down the table.

* * *

That day after class, Lavender's walking alone (for the first time since you can remember), so you catch up to her.

She takes one look at you and stops short. "Oh, what do you _want _Flammable Finnigan?"

You gulp, but think that your mam would kill you if you didn't do this. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry about your rabbit."

Her face melts, and suddenly she's leaning against you, sobbing onto your shoulder. You're not sure what to do, you stand as straight and still as you possibly can. It's really sort of uncomfortable, and you can feel her tears getting your shirt really wet.

Students flood the hallway, and you gingerly step away from her. You notice her eyes still look sad, and you have to look away. "Sorry, I can't be late for Transfiguration again."

And you take off down the hall, shaking off the strange feeling that makes you want to hug her.

* * *

You start to feel strange about girls. They're not as... well, you don't want to keep away from them at all costs any more (and they seem to have lost all cooties). And Dean's using words to describe that you've heard the older boys use like "fit" and "sexy", so you go along with it because it's Dean.

Of course, whenever someone comments on Lavender (and to your dismay, that happens a lot) you just stay out of it. No matter how "fit" she is, she's still annoying and giggly and a mite bossy, right?

So you don't know why, but when you see Lavender tossing and turning next to you, you speak.

"Can't sleep either?"

"It's not exactly easy when there's possibly a murderer lurking around the castle." Lavender huffs, pulling the blankets up to her chin. It's the first time all year that she's said something remotely funny, and you find yourself stifling laughter.

Though you can also tell she's genuinely scared. You wonder what you can say to make her feel better. "Well, we've got Dumbledore with us. Black'd never challenge him." You say, repeating what you heard that Oliver Wood, captain of the Quidditch team say to Katie Bell.

You watch her eyes soften. "Yeah, I guess so." She says.

That night, you fall asleep turned towards Lavender, because you sense that she's still a little scared. You suppose you are as well, but you're making it better by pretending that you're protecting someone. Even if that someone is annoying Lavender Brown.

* * *

It's not like you and her become best friends. No, quite the opposite, after that talk in the dead of night, you don't talk at all for the remainder of the year. Except for a few "pass the salt"s and "what was the potions essay supposed to be about again?"

But when you find yourself _staring_ at Lavender Brown at the end of term, you know you've got a problem.

She actually _is_ sort of pretty, you think. But as quickly as the thought came, you shook it out of your head, and didn't think about it again.

* * *

**A/N: **Hello! I don't know if anyone is actually reading this, but if they are, thank you! This chapter took some time, but I'm happy with it. The next chapter should be up soon, I hope.

**_PLEASE REVIEW!_**


	5. Year 4

**Year 4**

* * *

(Seamus Finnigan)

That year, you get to go to the Quidditch World Cup. You've got to say, it's the most fun and mind-blowing time you've ever had in your short life. You've got it all set in your head that you're going to be a professional player for the Kenmare Kestrels.

Then, everything goes wrong, and suddenly tents are being set on fire and people are yelling outside. Your mam gets you and Dean to run and hide in the forest as she follows closely behind.

You're filled with panic and confusion, you've never been in a situation like this and all around people are screaming and crying and calling names. You trip, falling hard on your knees as your mam and Dean run ahead of you. You move to get up, and come face to face with a man in a silver mask and a black hooded face, laughing cruelly. A shiver rolls up your spine and suddenly he grabs your arm roughly.

You almost scream, but then he just shoves you back down onto the ground and continues his path, walking through the burning campsite with his wand raised. Off in the distance, you see the same man point his wand at a younger boy, making him collapse. You run after Dean and your mam and catch up, but you don't tell anyone what happened.

* * *

Dean makes you share a compartment with Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil on the train ride in. You know he fancies Parvati, so you indulge him because he's your best mate and he'd do the same for you.

They sit on one side, Parvati babbling on about some vacation her and her family took that summer, and Dean's nodding at her. You shake your head, he sounds like a ponce, ooohing and aaaahing at the shawl Parvati received.

So you sit next to Lavender. You can't help but notice she grew a little taller during the summer, so she's your height now (or more accurately, a half-inch taller). You slump next to her, nose buried in the new book your mam bought you, _Quidditch Through The Ages. _Lavender is reading some girly magazine, so the two of you don't interact. You're grateful for it, because even though the two of you may have been somewhere around acquaintances last year, you still had no idea what you would talk to her about.

Periodically she stops and shows Parvati something from the magazine.

"But why do you always just paint them _red_?" Parvati asks exasperatedly, inspecting Lavender's outstretched hand.

Lavender shrugged. "Red nailpolish makes me feel pretty."

* * *

The announcement of the Triwizard Tournament comes, as do the students from Beauxbatons and from Durmstrang. The girls from Beauxbatons are the most retardedly gorgeous you've ever seen, with long blond hair and piercing blue eyes and all the blokes agree that they're something else. However, you hear the girls from Hogwarts talking about them, saying things like "she's so rude!" and "she's not all that pretty."

You fancy yourself a hero, so you're all ready to toss your name into that Goblet of Fire as soon as Dumbledore starts puttering on about eternal glory.

But then comes the age restriction, so you just prepare yourself to watch from the sidelines as best you can.

Then _Harry Potter _comes out of the Goblet, and in a way you aren't surprised. Everyone seems really confused and upset, but you knew he's somehow find a way to get his name in there.

Ron agrees.

* * *

During the first task, the dragon guarding the golden egg, you watch with bated breath as Cedric Diggory snags the egg from right under the dragon's nose. Next comes that beautiful Fleur Delacour, who gracefully charms the dragon to sleep before taking her egg. Then Viktor Krum, one who you saw in the World Cup, blinds the dragon and grabs the egg.

And then comes Harry Potter and for the smallest moment feel a little bad for him, just because he's drawn what Ron says is by far the meanest and most ferocious dragon in the world, the Hungarian Horntail.

It's exciting and death-defying, and in the end Harry gets the egg.

You celebrate him in the common room later that night, before him and Ron settle their differences, and Ron goes back to hanging out with Harry all the time. You've gotten closer to him since he'd spent all that time with you, and you realized he really is a good bloke.

But now you're back to watching from the sidelines with Dean. Across the common room you see Lavender Brown, who you haven't spoke to since the train ride in. And you know, she looks really pretty right then, with her hair back in that pink bow and her cheeks rosy and even when she giggles (though you prefer it when she laughs, genuinely laughs, throwing her head back and letting it out in short loud laughs, though you've only seen her do it twice).

And across the room she looks at you, cocks her head, and smiles. And something in your stomach flops and you smile back at her, and you realize you're in trouble.

* * *

At the second task, Harry's best friends Ron and Hermione are nowhere to be found, so you and Dean valiantly stand behind him with Neville on the dock. He looks scared as hell, and so you pat his shoulder and he looks at you shakily and he starts muttering things to Neville.

When he finally jumps into the lake (or, rather, is pushed), Neville starts freaking out, saying that he's killed Harry Potter, and then suddenly out of nowhere, Harry bursts out of the lake with a spin, and dives back in. And you laugh victoriously, because although you might be a bit jealous of him, he's still a friend.

You spot Lavender on one of the higher balconies of the observation decks, and she smiles and waves down at you. You waves back, grinning, and Dean punches you on the shoulder, before waving at Parvati.

* * *

You start talking to Lavender now. Just small-talk conversations, about homework or the tasks, or even the strange things the boys from Durmstrang eat.

You find that sometimes she's giggly and annoying, but those times she isn't, she's actually an alright person. She's funny, and shares your contempt about essays. Not to mention she has the best body of all the girls in your class, probably even better than some of the French Beauxbatons girls, and you can't help noticing her legs or her chest sometimes.

And miraculously, you sometimes go out of your way to talk to her. Dean teases you that you fancy her.

You start to think that you just might.

* * *

And then McGonagall announces the Yule Ball, and all the girls start going barmy.

You have to take _dance lessons. _The only upside is seeing Ron have to dance with McGonagall, which was no doubt the most hilarious thing you'd seen all year.

Then McGonagall orders the boys and girls to line up, and the female side of the room jumps up into line in the blink of an eye. You, however, stay put in your seat.

You would have to be bloody insane to think that you'd dance. Sure, at home, you'd dance with Fina when your father put on the Muggle radio and she'd beg you to be her partner. But never, never, _never _will you jump up to dance a ponce-y waltz in front of a bunch people. The other boys have around the same ideas as you, and only Neville steps up.

Lavender looks rather disappointed, and for a second you think you should get up and dance with her, just so she'll smile, but you shake it out of your head. You're still rather gangly and awkward for fourteen, and the last thing you want to do is make an arse of yourself without your consent (and though you are a bit of class clown, this is different).

In the end, Professor McGonagall just ends up red-faced and angry, and the girls are run out of the room whispering frantically.

"This is going to be a bloody nightmare." Dean mutters. You nod.

* * *

It's like a frantic race to get a date. Everywhere girls are traveling in packs, pointing at different blokes and whispering. It's all very high pressure and it makes it impossible to focus on anything else but what feels like impending doom.

"Well, hurry up and ask her!" Dean says as the two of you walk to the common room after the day's classes.

"You're one to talk, you're still putting off asking Parvati."

"Shut up." He says, shoving you into a wall.

"Oi!" You yelp.

Out of nowhere, Lavender appears, holding her books tightly and walking looking up at the ceiling. Her robes are nowhere to be found, so she's just wearing what looks like a shortened school skirt and dress shirt, no tie. You feel a lump rise in your throat, and prepare to run the other way, but Dean catches your arm.

"Hi Lavender." Dean says loudly, and you elbow him in the ribs.

"Oh, hey Dean." She says, smiling broadly. "Seamus."

"Hi." You say. You sound like a bloody frog.

"I was just up with Professor Trelawney, she says the stars are about to become aligned. She says something big is coming." She says thoughtfully.

You fight not to roll your eyes. Her and Parvati both have been obsessed with Divination ever since their first class in last year. It's just a load of rubbish, but she's convinced.

"Oh." You say.

"Well." Dean says loudly, looking at you pointedly. "I've got to go, I'm... I've got to meet Flitwick about something."

He punches your shoulder, and takes off down the hall. You could kill him.

"Where're you going?" You ask, cringing. You don't know what possessed you to ask that, and you're sure now you sound like a creep.

But she only answers "Common room."

"Aye, I'll walk you then?" You ask, proud of yourself for asking that. She nods, a smile playing at her lips, and starts walking with you up the corridor.

"So what about Trelawney?" You say, and she launches into a whole monologue about Jupiter and Mars coming to alignment as you give yourself a quick pep talk.

Just ask her. The worst she can do is say no, right?

No, she could laugh in your face, grab the nearest bloke and plant a giant wet one on him, and then tell everyone about how she turned down Seamus Finnigan and what a giant tosser you were.

She was looking at you expectantly, so you realized she was finished and you had to say something.

"Lavender, would you... er, d'ya want ta go ta the ball with me?" You ask. "...as friends?"

And suddenly everything froze. It's as if you've hexed yourself, and are still riding the extreme shockwaves. You said it automatically, you got scared, you chickened out. The thought of the extreme pressure on being able to stammer out those words, combined with the advice Fred and George had joking told him and Dean about how it was less pressure if you just went as friends was what made you do it.

In your mind you can practically _see _Dean slapping his forehead. 'You're a complete duffer, you know that?' He'll say, you just know it.

She smiles at you, and you know there's no way to take it back now. "Uh, yeah. That sounds great Seamus." She says.

She emits a little cough, and with one last smile, she takes off down the hallway.

* * *

You have to wear dress robes, and you can't help feeling stiff. Even with your Hogwarts uniform you don't wear it this nicely. Though you suppose you're a lot luckier than Ron, he's drowning in ruffles. Dean finally gets a tie on, and you pull him down into the common room.

You feel a little bad, because you know Dean didn't ask Parvati in time and now he has to go with Patty, but you can't help the grin on your face. Even though it's under the pretense of friends, you're still incredibly nervous about tonight.

You have to wait there for a bit before the girls show up, and you suspect Lavender does it on purpose just because she's dramatic like that.

But when you finally see her, your breath catches in your throat.

She's got on this pale pink strapless dress, dark blond hair combed all to one side, tumbling down in waves, possibly the only time you've seen her without a bow in her hair. The dress falls to just above her knees, making her legs look miles long, and gold strappy shoes.

A feral smiles spreads across her face and she looks at you up and down, saying "Wow, you clean up nice, Finnigan." Before taking your arm and leading you out of the common room.

* * *

The dance is a little stressful, but after you see how uncomfortable Harry looked dancing with Parvati, you start to be thankful you didn't have to dance first.

Lavender does dance, though. She wants to dance to all the songs, and you do too because he want to stay with her. You take a moment away to get something to drink, her still laughing amicably from your dancing attempts.

She leans back. "Well Finnigan, thanks. I'm having a great time."

You grin because the night is going well, and Lavender is fun and you haven't embarrassed yourself too much.

A slow song starts playing, and immediately neither of you two look at each other. You want to ask her to dance, you _should _ask her, she is here with you, after all. You turn to her, poised to ask, before a tall, dark boy wearing the Durmstrang uniform stands in front of her.

"Hello, I am Anton." He says in a deep voice. Your jaw clenches and you're about to just ask her anyway, but she responds.

"Hi! I'm Lavender Brown." She says, extending a hand. Instead of shaking it, you watch as he leans down and kisses it.

"May I have this dance?" He asks, shooting a quick glance at you.

Lavender asks, "You alright, Finnigan?"

"Yeah, sure, go on Lav." You say, and you hope it didn't sound pathetic.

She smiles at you once more and then waltzes onto the dance floor in the arms of "Anton". You almost hear him ask, "Is he your boyfriend?" so you strain to hear what Lavender says.

To your utter dismay, she says, "No, we just came together as friends."

You tense angrily, because you're just at this ball as friends. If you'd actually been a man and not chickened out, then you wouldn't have this problem of strange guys coming up and asking Lavender to dance. Or maybe you would, but she'd say no, and you'd tell that oaf that you were here on a date and that he should bugger off, and it wasn't your fault that _you_ had gotten the prettiest girl in the room to be on your arm all night.

You could bang your head against the table. They move gracefully, you can't help watching them. Not at all like the two left feet that you've got. Lavender does dance well, you realize. Like a ballerina, barely touching the ground, almost as if she was floating right before you. Light clung to her hair and her cheeks were rosy and she just looked so damn _good._

You sigh loudly, and lean back in your chair, letting your legs sprawl out. Across the room, you can see Harry, Ron, Parvati, and her sister Padma all sitting and staring at their hands in boredom. You don't know where Dean is.

She eventually comes back, but not after he kisses her hand one last time.

The ball ends, and it seems that everyone except Neville is rather perturbed by the entire evening. You walk with Lavender back to the common room.

There's a moment when you think you should kiss her, but you don't because you're only her friend and she probably doesn't want you to. And you're nervous and sweaty and insecure against Anton and his hulking height and dancing ability.

So you just tell her goodbye and that you had a good time, and go up to your dorm. Inside, Ron and Harry are already asleep, and Dean is taking off his tie. His look tells you not to ask about tonight, and you feel the same.

You should have just kissed her.

* * *

The third task happens, and it scares you shitless.

Cedric Diggory _died. _And Dumbledore says it has to do with You-Know-Who, a name you know your entire family is afraid of. You've heard stories about the dark days, before Harry Potter and when You-Know-Who was still alive.

Dumbledore makes a speech at the funeral and talks about how You-Know-Who killed Diggory, and how he had risen again, and it was important that we all stay united.

The train ride home is somber. Everyone is quiet, thinking over what happened. You and Lavender talk a little, about next year and how there'll be the OWLs and how much homework they'll be assigned.

But she seems afraid and sad too, no matter how much she giggles.

* * *

(Lavender Brown)

Summer is rather dull this year. You spend most of it writing letters to Parvati and catching up on trends from Madam Malkin's new robes monthly and Witch Weekly. You go on a few dates here and there, and your mother smiles vacantly as you leave. Your father isn't home most of the time, and your mother is already in bed when it's time for dinner.

You spend a lot of it alone.

When September first rolls around, you couldn't be happier. You missed Hogwarts, particularly Professor Trelawney and her promise for your free reign over her books during non-class periods.

Parvati and you grab the first empty compartment you see, and stow your trunks with great difficulty.

A few minutes into the ride, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan show up outside your compartment and ask if they can sit. Dean looks hopeful. Seamus looks bored.

Parvati looks at you with widened eyes, begging for permission. Over the summer, she confided in you that she did begin to fancy Dean Thomas at the beginning of last year and still does. You decide to humor your friend and you give her a little nod.

Dean sits next to Parvati, and the two of them immediately start talking. You're happy for her, Parvati hasn't gone on any dates, and you can see the way she looks at you when you flounce out to yet another Hogsmeade meeting.

Seamus flops himself down next to you, slumping down into the seat. You roll your eyes at his lack of posture and extract the latest edition of _Dorea, _a magazine for mature women that you snagged from your mother's magazine pile.

Yes, you admit that at the end of last year you did believe that Seamus Finnigan was rather fetching in a rugged sort of way, and that he was capable of civil interaction, but you were young and naive then. This year you are armed with an acute knowledge of all things dating and male, and Seamus is in no way compatible with you (you've taken a test). So you don't make an effort to speak to him.

It does get rather boring though, because you finished the magazine with an hour still left on the train ride, so you resort to asking Parvati's advice.

"But why do you always just paint them _red_?" Parvati asks exasperatedly, inspecting your outstretched hand.

You shrug. "Red nailpolish makes me feel pretty." You say cavalierly, remembering the first time your mother painted your nails the muggle way. They were red; to match hers.

The Hogwarts Express finally stops at the correct stop, you jump out of the train, tugging on Parvati's arm.

* * *

When Dumbledore announces that a contest called the Triwizard Tournament was being held at Hogwarts, you were not overly excited. That is, until the dashing, dark, mysterious Durmstrang students and the skinny-mini-blondy-Veelas from Beauxbatons showed up.

You inspect the boys from Durmstrang closely. They'd look like what Witch Weekly characterizes as "bad-boys". You do think some of them are rather attractive, but mostly they just look big and muscly and rather _too _mature. They're a bit scary.

Then there're the girls from Beauxbatons. All the boys around you at the table unabashedly stare at them as they run past, and your green monster is shaken awake. So what if they've got long legs? You've got them too. And blond hair (well, dark blond, maybe light brown in the winter, but all the same). And as for their figure... well, wasn't it _you _all the boys were talking about last year?

When Harry Potter's name comes out of the Goblet of Fire, you're not all that excited. I mean, it's a miracle, and it's supposed to be _Tri_wizard, not... four wizards. You're over talking about it after the first night, but apparently no one else is.

* * *

The first task is rather exciting, though. You think it's dangerous, that they shouldn't be allowing any of the champions to get so close to such a terrifying deathly creature.

You cheer on Harry with the rest of your house. You rather hope he doesn't die, as it would put a damper on the rest of the year most horribly. He grabs the egg just in time, and the crowd around you cheers their lungs out.

You celebrate in the common room. You and Parvati hug towards the back of the group after the unfortunate deafening noise that came when Harry opened the egg. You don't even know what that's about.

"Seamus Finnigan's looking at you." Parvati murmurs in your ear.

You turn slowly and see him staring straight through the crowds, dead at _you_. And a chill runs down your spine.

A really... good... chill.

But you play dumb and smile and tilt your head slightly, as if asking him if he needs anything.

His mouth curves into a lopsided grin, that Irish grin, and you want to memorize that grin and keep it locked away forever, opening it when you need a burst of light. It takes over his face in this beautifully boyish way that just makes you smile too, a genuine smile.

* * *

At the second task, you and Parvati take seats in the higher balcony of the observation deck, squeezing in next to Patty and Fey. You tuck your Gryffindor scarf closer to your neck and rub your hands together. The wind up here is quite a bit colder.

You lean down to see the champions, particularly Harry.

And there Seamus is, standing behind him, hugging the pole and saying something to Dean. You know you heard Harry asking for Hermione or Ron, but they're nowhere to be found.

The entire beginning of the task is a mite boring, until the canon sounds and the champions dive in (or, in Harry's case, falls in). Your eyes turn back to the three Gryffindor boys still on the starting platform. Neville is close to ripping his hair out, and if you squint, you can see his worried face.

Then, all of a sudden, Harry jumps out of the water with a shout, and plunges back in. Seamus lets out a loud whoop of victory, high-fiving Dean.

His eyes suddenly flick up to yours, and a grin blooms. You wave down at him, almost without thinking. He waves back, to your relief. Parvati shoots you a look before waving down to Dean.

You let out a breath but then sharply inhale. Could you actually _like _Seamus? No, it couldn't be. He ranked a 34% on the Good Boyfriend test, and surely you can't find his messy, unorganized appearance appealing.

* * *

Seamus talks to you a lot more now. Trivial things, mostly, but everything has got to start somewhere.

You find that sometimes he's loud and rude and uncouth, but despite that, he seems like a good bloke. He always puts a smile on your face, and doesn't give you that look of superiority some Ravenclaw boys give you when you complain about homework. He's rather fit too, in a sort of rugged, reckless way. That grin gets you every time, and his strange habit of tying his tie in a knot doesn't really bother you anymore.

And miraculously, he seems to go out of his way to talk to you. You always liked getting wooed, and you're finding yourself looking forward to times in the day when he's catch up with you and start up a conversation.

You realize you fancy him.

* * *

When McGonagall announces that there's going to be a dance called the Yule Ball, you immediately know who you want to go with.

To your dismay, he's shaking his head and muttering something to Dean, looking skeptically. And when the boys and girls line up to practice waltzing, he doesn't even move an inch.

You roll your eyes at all the boys, they're being completely immature. Though the tension through the room is tangible, and you desperately wish this would end so you could run upstairs with Parvati, pull your curtains closed, and analyze this entire situation.

So when it does finally end, you grab Parvati's wrist and pull her upstairs.

"Lavender, it's a _dance. _An actual party! With dates!"

The two of you collapse, giggling, on Parvati's bed.

"I know, I know!" You turn over and look at her seriously. "So, who do you want to ask you?"

Parvati sighs. "Dean Thomas. But I know it'll never happen."

I punch her arm. "Parvati, that's such a lie! The boy has obviously got the hots for you! Now you've just got to hope he can pluck up the courage to actually ask!"

"What about you?"

You smile. "I want Seamus Finnigan to ask me."

Parvati scoffs. "Lavender. He's an ass. Why do you even fancy him?"

Your shoulders slump in disappointment. You know Parvati's not a big fan of Seamus, and it really bothers you. I mean, it's your best friend for Merlin's sake!

"I just do, ok?" You say defensively, pulling a magazine from the top of her night table. "Logic doesn't play a part. It's unstoppable, it's animal attraction."

"Really, you think so?"

"'Course. I can't stop this, I just do."

Parvati takes your hair in her hands and begins to braid the ends, still giggling a little. "This is so exciting, we've got to get new dresses, and everything! Maybe we could find some place in Hogsmeade that does nails?"

You smile largely, already envisioning yourself and Seamus in complimenting dress robes with the same color palette and everything.

* * *

The boys all seem extra jumpy. Everyone is being asked to the Yule Ball in every class, new people every day. Boys stare more than usual at you and Parvati, Fey, and Patty, but they also stare at all the other girls. It's as if they're suddenly afraid to make contact.

You're not nervous, though. Whenever boys are nervous when they're talking to you, you just take control of the conversation and manipulate it so that they can ask whatever they need, whether it be a weekend to Hogsmeade, or in this case... a date.

And when Professor Trelawney predicts the star's alignment meaning something big is coming, you just _know _Seamus is going to ask you. You wander through the hall to get back to the dorms, but you can't stop staring at the ceiling. You wish you could just see the stars through the walls.

"Hi Lavender." Dean Thomas says loudly, making you jump a bit. Seamus and Dean stand in front of you, Seamus looking a little green in the face. You get excited, maybe this is your big thing.

"Oh, hey Dean." You say, smiling broadly. "Seamus."

"Hi." He says, his voice sounding a little rough. You sort of like it when it sounds like that, it sounds manly.

"I was just up with Professor Trelawney, she says the stars are about to become aligned. She says something big is coming." You say, striking up the conversation.

"Oh." Seamus says. You can tell he is skeptical, but he always has been about divination. You think he'll come around to it though, sometime.

"Well." Dean says loudly, looking at Seamus pointedly. "I've got to go, I'm... I've got to meet Flitwick about something."

He punches his shoulder, and takes off down the hall.

_Ask me_, you think at him. _Please just ask me._

"Where're you going?" He suddenly asks.

You take a deep breath, try to remember if you flossed this morning after a regular toothbrushing. You really hope you did.

"Common room." You say casually.

"Aye, I'll walk you then?" He asks, sounding more confident. You nod, trying to keep your grin from spreading all the way across your face.

_Ask me. _

"So what about Trelawney?" He asks.

You explain to him about the current positioning of Jupiter and Mars, but once they become directly across from each other, something big will happen. It's all about the planets, in the exact moment their paths are aligned, the "big thing" Professor Trelawney predicted will occur.

He doesn't say anything when you finish, looking hazily at the ground. But then he looks up, wringing his hands nervously.

Here it is, you think. He's going to ask you. This is it!

"Lavender, would you... er, d'ya want ta go ta the ball with me?" He stammers out, and you are bursting with excitement, so excited to consent and then -

"...as friends?"

It felt like your heart stopped.

Did he really just say what you thought he did?

You suddenly feel like you might cry, cry because he _doesn't _want to go with you (well he does, but not _really_) and he doesn't fancy you at all and dammit _how is that possible_?! You'd already gotten offers from three other boys, but turned them down because you _knew _he was going to ask you!

This was terrible.

_As friends._

This was horrible.

_As friends._

For the first time ever when interacting with a guy, you loose control. You quickly pull yourself together, and you force yourself to smile. Because what are you supposed to say?

"Uh, yeah. That sounds great Seamus." You say, forcing the shakiness out of your voice.

You smile at him one more time and then flee the scene.

* * *

You cry to Parvati, and she comforts you. She does your hair in a fancy braid, just letting you cry and snot and vent.

You can't believe it. He really didn't fancy you.

You're baffled by this. Everyone fancies you.

Parvati is upset too. She told you about how she waited for Dean, and how he didn't fancy her either, she knew, and then she got asked by _Harry Potter, _and it was all for the best because now she was going to get to enter with the champions and dance in the first dance.

And you give her a small smile but that's all you can manage for her right now. You're selfish, and you can't be happy for her when your heart was just cracked.

* * *

You and Parvati shop for dresses together, and you help her pick out the perfect one. She's giddy and nervous and keeps making you practice waltzing with her in between classes.

You try, you really do. But after a certain amount of time every day, you just can't keep up the smile for her anymore, and instead of pulling the curtains and whispering and gossiping, you hide under your sheets. Filled with jealousy and tears.

The afternoon of the ball you do Parvati's hair and help her get into her sari, pink and orange, her favorite colors. Giving her hands a small squeeze, you let her go off with Padma to meet Harry and Ron.

You square your shoulders. You realize that going with Seamus, even as friends, is better than not going with him at all. This way you wouldn't have to watch him with another girl. Patty ends up going with Dean, so you walk down to the common room with her.

The two of you wait a few minutes, just because you know that the common room will be mostly empty, and dammit, you want to make an entrance.

When you finally emerge, you see Seamus standing at the bottom of the stairs, hands shoved into his dress robe pockets. He looks cute, with his hair still sand-colored and messy. You smile a little bigger when you see his tie is tied correctly, not all up in a knot.

And then he sees you. And he gets this look in his eyes that you've seen from other boys before, but this one makes you lose your breath. He looks at you like you're... _lovely_.

You smile as you check him out, gaining back the control you wanted.

"Wow, you clean up nice, Finnigan." You say, liking the sound of his last name, before taking his arm and leading him out of the common room.

* * *

Parvati enters on Harry's arm, and though you still feel a stab of jealousy, when she looks to you she gets a supportive look back. Harry is rather awkward waltzing, you can tell.

You can tell that Seamus is rather awkward as well with dancing, but you're a tiny bit amused as to how many songs he'll dance with you despite that. You finally pity him when you start to get tired, and go to sit down.

"Well Finnigan, thanks. I'm having a great time." You say.

He grins and you suddenly have a powerful urge to snog him right at that very moment. You're startled at yourself, because this isn't the correct time in the date where that happens. The boy always waits until the end of the date, when you're in front of the portrait hole, to kiss you goodbye. You've kissed a few boys yourself in your time, but the prospect of leaning in and kissing Seamus yourself makes you uneasy and nervous.

A slow song starts playing, you look at the ground. You wonder if Seamus will ask you. You _hope _he will. You want him to hold you close in his arms, not like waltzes or faster songs where you can't feel his warmth or touch.

But you can't! Then you're sure to kiss him! And he won't kiss you back, because you're here as friends. Being just friends with a boy confuses you as this is the first time you've had to do it.

Damn his lopsided grin.

Out of nowhere, a tall boy with dark hair and brown eyes appears in front of you.

"Hello, I am Anton." He says in a deep voice.

"Hi! I'm Lavender Brown." You say, extending a hand. He kisses it slowly. He's mysterious, dark, handsome, tall, strong. A gentleman, you can bet that he doesn't compete in burping competitions, unlike the boy sitting next to you.

He'd probably get a high score on the test, you think.

"May I have this dance?" He asks.

You turn to Seamus, and you can see his jaw set. You wonder, no, hope, that he's jealous.

"You alright, Finnigan?" You ask, hoping he'll say something to make you stay, and then you'll be cross with him, and then you can just get over these feelings for the boy.

"Yeah, sure, go on Lav." He says.

Picking yourself up, you leave him without a second look. So what if Seamus doesn't care if you're dancing with another guy? You've got... what was his name? _Anton_.

He takes you in his arms and the two of you dance onto the floor. He holds you closely, and you have to look up at him to see his face. He really is quite handsome, face completely symmetrical and not a blemish in sight. He smells like something spicy, something you can't really put your finger on. His shoulders are quite broad.

"Is he your boyfriend?" He asks you, nodding over at Seamus. He's sitting in the seats, drinking.

"No, we just came together as friends." You say, and it hurts more than the time Parvati tried to wax your legs. You hate every word of that sentence.

You look up at Anton, who says, "Good. Your beauty pleases me."

You should want to snog this boy! You should want to kiss him until your face turned blue, the mysterious dark stranger of every girl's dreams. So why did you not feel the fiery need to smash your lips against his?

It upsets you, and you barely pay attention to the steps, letting Anton guide you. Kissing was supposed to be casual and fun, flirty, something to do that felt good. You wanted to particularly kiss boys that would be good boyfriends, and make all other girls seethe with jealousy.

That's all you wanted! Right?!

Everything confused you. So after the song ended, you bade him goodbye. He kisses your hand one last time, but you unfortunately feel nothing. Not even a little tingle or spark.

You go back to Seamus, who is still sitting and staring around at everyone.

The ball ends soon after that, and Seamus and you make your way back to Gryffindor common room. On the way, you see two figures pressed up against each other down the hallway, and you feel like stomping your foot.

Because when the two of you get into the common room and you're about to go upstairs and back to your dorm and he looks at you and it's the end of the date and this is the time and oh god, you just wish he would just _kiss you already._

He doesn't. He tells you he had a nice time, and goes up the staircase towards the boy's dorms.

Exasperatedly pulling pins out of your hair, you enter the dorm. Parvati and you decide that you need to talk, and pull the curtains around her bed. She tells you how her night was absolutely terrible, and that Harry Potter has no idea how to treat a date._  
_

You comfort her and fall asleep next to her, but secretly your glad she had as good a night as you.

* * *

Cedric Diggory's death does not eclipse your broken hearted feelings, but it does put a damper on them. You attend the funeral and hear about how he was killed by You-Know-Who, and how You-Know-Who was back.

It scares you. You say goodbye to Anton, who says he will write you. You don't care.

Everyone is a cloud of depression, so you try and pretend like every thing's ok. You know things are going to be different now but you push that thought away.

Maybe if you pretend for long enough, it will be.

* * *

**A/N: **Wow, this chapter was long! But I hope those reading this enjoyed it nonetheless. Sorry if it was hard to get through

YAY Lavender and Seamus are starting to catch feelings! I had a lot of fun writing about the Yule Ball.

Once again, thanks to everyone that reviewed. I really like hearing feedback.

* * *

**_Please review!_**


	6. Year 5

**Year 5**

* * *

(Lavender Brown)

"Oi, Brown!" Seamus' voice calls from one of the compartments on the Express. You almost don't recognize it, it's lower. "You ready for this year?"

You turn slowly and shoot him a catlike grin.

The Yule Ball changes things. You and Seamus are _friends _now.

It's not _so_ surprising. You're not as different from his as you previously thought. Last year led to the discovery of a shared humor and dislike of schoolwork. The fact that you also find him attractive plays a part as well.

"More than you Seamus slacker Finnigan." You say. His head pokes farther out of the compartment door. You were looking for Parvati, and you know you can't sit with him because he must be with Dean. And Parvati would blatantly refuse sitting with him due to last year and the fact that Dean didn't ask Parvati to the Yule Ball.

"Thought my name was _Flammable_ Finnigan?"

You giggle. "Fine. You can be Seamus slacker Flammable Finnigan."

"It's a bit long, don't you think?"

You shrug, but you love this back and forth you're having. His hair looks a bit shorter than it did last year. His eyes are the same, though.

"Come sit with me." He says. You're secretly taken aback and rather intrigued by his charming new voice and conversation, but you don't let your guard down.

"Can't. I'm looking for Parvati."

"She's probably just sitting with her sister! Come on, please?"

You enter his compartment, and Dean is nowhere to be found. You're pleased to discover that aside from his haircut and dropped voice, he looks taller as well, skin slightly tanned. His hair doesn't fall in his eyes anymore, which you almost miss, but now you can see those eyes clearly at all times.

"Where's Dean?"

"Dunno." He says.

"So, how was your summer?" You ask.

His face darkens a little. "Rubbish, actually. My mam almost didn't let me come back this year, 'cause of..." He motioned to the Daily Prophet sitting next to you on the seat, with Harry Potter on the front page.

You pick it up, having not been reading during the summer. Your father subscribes to the Prophet, but he has it sent to his office now. "Harry... Plotter?"

"Saying he made it all up, about You-Know-Who." Seamus says, staring down at the ground. His eyes are angry looking, and you don't like that.

"Well, you don't honestly believe this, do you?" You ask with a giggle, but his face doesn't change.

"My family does. Everyone's getting really scared, and -"

At that moment, Dean entered the compartment. "Hello Lavender."

You smile. "Hi Dean."

He stares at Seamus for a moment before turning back to you. "Er, Parvati's looking for you. Out in the hallway." He says.

You smile once more at Seamus before leaving the compartment, still a bit uneasy about Seamus' expression and this whole Harry Potter lying thing.

* * *

Seamus has a falling out with Harry, and it's safe to say that that creates a huge rift through the fifth year Gryffindors. You try to stay as out of it as you can you've got your own drama to tend to, what with Su Li wearing the same shoes as you, but it's unavoidable.

You believe Harry and what he said because... well, you saw Cedric Diggory with your own eyes. He was obviously dead, murdered. But Seamus is determined and won't be deterred from his opinions.

Though you stay friends with him and sometimes Dean, much to Parvati's dislike.

It's a little hard watching him flirt with other girls, but you bite your lip and convince yourself that you will not be made a fool of by acting jealous. It's a new thing you're trying.

"What do you call a magical flower with sharp teeth?"

"Fanged Geranium." He says confidently, throwing a balled up piece of parchment into the air and catching it with one hand. The two of you sit in the common room, studying for the OWLs. They're not for months, but you elect to start studying now. Specifically with Seamus.

"And they caused what Muggle war? and between who?"

He looks at you worriedly. "Ach... War of... some flower... um... War of The Daisies?"

You laugh loudly. "No, Finnigan, the War of the Roses. Do you remember who it was between?"

"Some bloody stuck-up gents in England, I dunno!" He says, rolling over to his original position and throwing the ball of parchment once more. "Can't we review something easier? Like... I dunno, Transfiguration?"

"You hate Transfiguration."

"Yeah, but it's all just spells and practical stuff. Herbology and History of Magic are all dates and names, and shite that doesn't matter." He says. You shake your head at him, even though you completely agree.

No boy has ever just wanted to be friends with you. Well, there was Dean, but that was simply because he so obviously fancied Parvati, and obviously you're going to be friends with the best friend of the girl you fancy. Or you thought that, until he didn't ask Parvati to the Yule Ball in time. But besides him, any boy that has ever been nice to you has always asked you for a date, or just a snog.

And why did fate make it so that the boy you _wanted_ to date and snog just wanted to be friends?

* * *

There's an announcement that every fifth year student will have to have a meeting with their Head of house about their plans for the future.

Besides the OWLs in the near future and hopefully lining up a boyfriend for this year, you don't know what you want to do after Hogwarts. You think you'll just marry rich, like your mum, and spend your days looking beautiful and gardening and throwing parties and gossiping. You aren't worried.

* * *

"So, Hermione said that everyone was supposed to meet at Hogs Head." Parvati says.

"For what again?"

"I don't know, but Hogs Head is _gross. _Still, everyone's going..."

The two of you decide to check it out, especially since it's top secret, and you just love secrets.

Everyone shows up in this dingy, dirty room, and Hermione tells you all about what they want to do. Harry, teaching practical Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons because Umbridge won't teach them. Hermione says you all need them because You-Know-Who really is back and need to be prepared.

Everyone is obviously skeptical.

But after some talking, people start to nod their heads.

You think about it. It has never crossed your mind, doing something like this. It's so very brave and political and important, and secretive, but not in a gossipy secret-but-not-secret way. It's a chance to do something really great, something bigger than yourself.

Something in your heart ignites at the possibility. It's confusing, being excited about something that isn't about you.

But when the time comes, you sign your name right under Parvati's.

* * *

Almost everyone in Gryffindor joins.

Seamus doesn't.

It's obvious he feels left out, and you still try to speak to him about it. He won't change his mind, even if he does look forlornly as everyone sneaks out to the meetings.

You love being in the group.

Dumbledore's Army. You never thought yourself a warrior, and you still aren't really. You're just a teenage girl playing at imaginary wars. But you like the meetings, the whispers, the comradery. You learn spells you never even imagined yourself learning.

You feel strong. It's a new feeling, something big. But you like it.

The only problem is that it's creating a wall against you and Seamus. He talks to you less and less as the meetings wear on. You grow tired and fed up of seeing him actually going out on dates (only a few, but it might as well be millions). You go out on one, with a boy named Tony from the grade above.

He's sweet, with his straight-toothed smile and short, brown hair. He's muggleborn, and loves dogs.

But he doesn't make you laugh once.

There isn't a second date.

* * *

Winter break is dully ineventful. Your great aunt is staying with you, which makes your mum on edge. She drinks more frequently now, and only speaks in one-word sentences to you. Your father is also home more often, but when he speaks to you he feels like a stranger.

You wish you could get back to Hogwarts and Dumbledore's Army already.

* * *

The girls and you are sitting in the library, whispering and giggling about boys. It's hardly full, being a Thursday, and since you're not all in the same house, you took the opportunity.

"What about Seamus Finnigan?" Hannah Abott asks.

"Seamus Finnigan? Oh, he's fit." Marietta Edgecomb says, giggling. She turns the page in Witch Weekly, where the headline shouts "Up Close And Personal Interview With Stubby Boardman, Lead Singer of The Hobgoblins.

You remember how you heard Seamus remarking to Dean about Marietta Edgecomb in a tight dress.

Suddenly, you want to stab Marietta Edgecomb.

"Didn't you go to the Yule Ball with him, Lav?" Fay asks.

"As friends." You say, hating every syllable of the sentence. You hope it comes out casually. Everyone buys it.

But Parvati. Who looks at you pointedly, but says nothing.

"How about Dean Thomas?" You suggest meanly. Parvati glares at you, but you don't acknowledge her.

"Oh yes, he's definitely cute." says Fay. Hannah, Marietta, Cho and Patty all nod. Parvati purses her lips and goes back to this month's star chart, claiming that she thinks the alignment of Venus and Mars will bring confusion between love and hate.

* * *

He joins.

You feel your heart burst.

Watching him finally apologize to Harry, finally join the group, makes you so happy. While he practices spells, he sees you out of the corner of his eye and smiles.

You grin back, adjusting the bow in your hair.

* * *

You wonder if he might fancy you. He does all the things Witch Weekly says mean that a boy fancies you, like carrying your books to class or asking to study together. And he is kind to you.

But then you think that he's just trying to be a good friend, and he's one of those boys who's always overflowing with chivalry. If it had been any other boy, it would have been different. And you would have gone through the motions, the batting of eyelashes and giggling. You'd throw out your net and no doubt bait the boy. Then you'd trick him into asking you out (because sometimes they're just too nervous to ask consciously themselves). You'd have a great date and then some snogging, and he'd be yours to either reel in or toss back out.

But it's _Seamus, _and he's proving to be anything but the average fish.

* * *

You hate Professor Umbridge even more, if it was possible, when she fires Trelawney.

You cry and cry with Parvati, because Professor Trelawney was your favorite teacher. She was the only one who made you excited about any school subject, and she really _was _a seer and how dare Umbridge sack her!

Dumbledore cuts in, luckily, and makes sure that Umbridge doesn't banish her from the grounds, so she can still live at Hogwarts.

Firenze is a good teacher, but you still miss Professor Trelawney a lot.

* * *

Someone snitches on the DA.

And it's over. You don't know what you'll do now, but you have to go through with the punishment. You can't believe what's happening, there's got to be a way to stop it.

You wince and bite your lip as you're forced to write more on the paper and it transfers onto the back of your hand.

You look over to Seamus, who's next to you. His mouth is set into a straight line, and his face shows no reaction as his hand turns red and the words are scratched into him. He's so brave, you wish you were brave like him.

You want to scream. How can this be happening? How had you gotten yourself into this?

You vainly let a tear escape your eye.

After you're released, you want to run to Parvati, but for some reason you can't find her.

Someone grabs your wrist, though. It's Seamus.

He doesn't say anything. He just holds your hand, thumb ghosting over the fresh cuts of words on the back of your hand that burn like hell. He smiles a half smile, and it makes you believe everything might be ok.

* * *

The day of the OWLs you sit down next to Parvati, staring at the test that you're sure you're not going to ace. Though it doesn't really matter, you know your mum and dad won't care, and you really have no idea what you want to be when you grow up. Others, like Hermione Granger, are on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

They're definitely hard. You don't know some of the answers, but you put down your best guess. You've got your lucky pink quill, you'll turn out alright.

* * *

You and Parvati actually sit with Dean and Seamus on the train ride home. It's awkward between your best friend and Dean, but she wants to prove that she can handle being around him. You spend the ride discussing trends with Parvati and rolling your eyes when Seamus and Dean start fighting about Quidditch again. It's fun, and everyone's feeling light after the OWLs are finally over.

When you get off the train, Parvati gives you a bone-crushing hug, and Dean a polite one-armed hug. The both of them start off through the crowd on the platform, Parvati walking seemingly coolly and unaffected in front of him.

You turn to Seamus, watching him watching you. The two of you are alone in a crowd, and all you can do is stare into his handsome greenish blue eyes.

And Merlin, he's looking at you _in that way _and you feel your heart speed up as he leans close to you.

And then he kisses you. Just like that. He presses his lips to yours and you feel so happy you could scream. Finally.

You forget that you're in a very public train platform full of parents and younger children.

The kiss is sweet and tentative, and tender. Starkly different from the usual hot and heavy kisses you've shared with all the others. His hands pull you possessively closer to him. You sigh softly, letting your fingers wind through his sand-colored, surprisingly soft hair.

He pulls away, staring at you tentatively. But then something changes in his face, and the biggest grin stretches over his face. For the first time when dealing with boys, you feel genuinely confused. He was going rogue, differing the normal dating boy-girl ritual. The kiss was a surprise, and you worry if you might've had breakfast breath, or that you forgot to put on that extra spritz of perfume today.

You see your dad standing behind him looking at you disapprovingly, and suddenly feel the need to flee. You leave Seamus standing there, in the same place he kissed you, taking off with your father.

He doesn't say anything, doesn't bring up the fact that he saw you kissing a boy, but you stubbornly hold onto the fact that he even gave any sort of attention to anything you've done.

* * *

(Seamus Finnigan)

You took the first compartment you saw, not having spotted Dean anywhere yet and wanting to get away from Mam. You feel low, and you exhaustedly throw down your things.

It's not until you see a familiar head of dark blond hair that your spirits lift.

"Oi, Brown!" You call impulsively after her down the hallway of the train. She stops. "You ready for this year?"

She turns slowly, dramatically, smiling at you in that sexy, feral way she always seems to do.

"More than you Seamus slacker Finnigan." She says, flipping her hair over her shoulder. She looks beautiful, standing with her hand on her hip, wearing signature pink.

"Thought my name was _Flammable_ Finnigan?" You reply.

She giggles. "Fine. You can be Seamus slacker Flammable Finnigan."

"It's a bit long, don't you think?"

You ask her to come sit with you, and she does. She asks how your summer was.

You hesitate, but decide to tell her the truth.

"Rubbish, actually. My mam almost didn't let me come back this year, 'cause of..." You motion to the copy of the Daily Prophet that was previously being waved in front of your face by your mother.

She stares at it and reads the headline incredulously. "Harry... Plotter?"

"Saying he made it all up, about You-Know-Who."

"Well, you don't honestly believe this, do you?" She asks, lightly giggling.

You shift. "My family does. Everyone's getting really scared, and -"

But Dean finally opens the door to the compartment, flustered, saying, "Hello Lavender."

"Hi Dean."

He stares at you, asking with his eyes if you want him to bugger off, but you convey back that it's fine. "Er, Parvati's looking for you. Out in the hallway." Dean says.

She smiles at you, leaving quickly, but it isn't all the way genuine.

* * *

You turn over in bed again, making the old springs squeak.

Maybe you shouldn't have yelled at Harry.

Well, why shouldn't you have? It's because of his lying and stories that you had to beg your mam not to take you out of Hogwarts altogether! Bloody Harry Potter, he was probably lying to have more glory, it wasn't enough that he'd survived a bloody killing curse!

You block out the shouting and berating your mam gave you even as you walked through the wall to the platform, the tired and pained looks your dad gave you when you would fight back, the scared looks Fina gave you when you would storm upstairs, leaving your parents yelling after you.

It's all Harry's fault.

* * *

There's an announcement that every fifth year student will have to have a meeting with their Head of house about their plans for the future.

It's safe to say that half of the class promptly panics. Besides those that knows what they want, like Ernie MacMillan wishing to work at the Ministry, or Fay Dunbar babbling about Auror training.

"Where do you think you'll be headed after graduation?" You ask Dean as you walk to class.

"I think I'd like to go to art school." He says thoughtfully. "You?"

"I..." You, truthfully, have no idea. You think becoming an Auror sounds wicked, but somewhere down in you you know you want a job where you could spend time with your hopefully big family.

* * *

You angrily bat your book off the table, kicking your legs up to lean on the table in front of you. The only Gryffindors besides you in the common room are a few first years playing chess. They jump when the book hits the floor.

Everyone else is in Hogsmeade. Meeting with bloody Harry Potter.

Neville, Parvati, Lavender. Even _Dean _went.

You put your head down on the wood table, shutting your eyes tightly and balling up your fists. You wonder when everything got so complicated, and why you didn't have any warning.

* * *

The whole Lavender situation this year gets better and worse.

Better in the way that you two talk almost as much as you talk to Dean, you study with her, you make her laugh. She's... well, besides Dean, she's your best friend. Though it gets increasingly hard to think of her as a friend when she wears a button less buttoned on her school shirts than any of the other girls and she constantly smells delicious.

Worse in the way that you really just want to snog her senseless constantly, but don't. And in the way that her, along with Dean and all your other friends, have shacked up with Harry in a secret society that seems to meet almost every day. She tells you how you should give it a chance, maybe hear what Harry has to say, and you stubbornly change the subject.

You go on a few dates, mostly to try to distract yourself. And maybe it's a little to see if she gets jealous.

She doesn't, though.

But you do, especially when she goes out with that tosser Tony. Though it's only once and when you casually asked her about it she said he was a bore, but it still hurt seeing her all made up to go out with another bloke.

The sting of the Yule Ball and Ivan are still very present in your heart.

* * *

You read Harry's interview in the Quibbler.

Something changes. You tell him you're sorry, and that you believe him.

Winter break passes quickly, and before you know it, you're finally accompanying Dean to one of the infamous Dumbledore's Army meetings.

You find that you like it quite a bit. You actually manage to produce a full patronus, something that you hadn't even imagined in your dreams.

It's also worth it to see Lavender smile like that at you.

* * *

Before you know it, it's over.

Umbridge finds out about Dumbledore's Army, about everything. Next thing you know, you're sitting a large room with all the other members, watching the skin on the back of your hand being magically carved into by some invisible knife.

But you refuse to give any indication of pain. It would satisfy Umbridge far too much.

You sneak a peak at Lavender. She looks like she's trying very hard not to cry, stopping every two seconds to check her hand or look away. Suddenly, you feel enraged, like you could rip this whole room apart, like you could rip a whole world apart, because there was nothing you could do to stop her from feeling pain.

After finally, finally, _finally _it's over, you immediately follow Lavender. She runs out, no doubt looking around for Parvati. You grab her wrist, making her stop and turn to you. And her eyes are so hurt and you're so angry, you should have protected her from this. You don't know what to say, you've never been good with words, so you say nothing. You smile at her sadly, and letting your thumb ghost over the freshly-made cuts on the back of her hand.

You wish you could make it ok.

* * *

After that, you make a point to look out for her, make sure she's alright. You know she was cut up about Trelawney being sacked, but there's something else about her. You do stare at her in class sometimes, but not quite so close. Maybe at the flash of skin that showed when she sat down between her skirt and knee socks, maybe the way she sucked on the top of her quill... but this was different.

You don't think she's happy. She smiles, yeah, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes most of the time. Her conversations are standard, meticulously planned out to take about the same amount of time, giving and taking different details of personal life, before she would leave. When she walked alone in the hallway, though, her smile faded.

You asked her once if she was okay, and she only smiled and said, "Of course." and then changed the subject.

Your conversations remain light, joking, poking fun at one another. But sometimes they'll descend into something almost profound, like your recent shared hatred of "the system". It's all different and new for you, talking to her in a serious way you only ever speak to Dean in.

But you like it just the same.

* * *

The OWLs are stressful, to say the least. You think you'll barely scrape by, having only known the answers to around a eight-tenths of the questions. You know your mam will be furious if you fail, but your dad will just ruffle your hair and say that it was alright. At least, that was what would happen if it had been last year. You're not really sure of the relationship between you and your parents anymore. It's scary, and you push that thought out of your head.

You're overjoyed when testing is over, spending the rest of the day throwing around the Quaffle with Dean outside.

* * *

The year ends in a haze of heat, and it's a nice train ride home. Dean talks some, but is quiet because Parvati and Lavender sit with them. You know he's still a bit cut up about Parvati going with Harry to the Yule Ball last year, and Parvati doesn't seem to keen to talk to him either. So you talk to him mostly, but some to Lavender too. She looks sad to be going home, but keeps smiling.

Finally, when students exit the train cars and the platform fills with, "Mum! Dad!" and "Watch your step!" and "Has anyone seen a toad? I've lost it!", you prepare to say goodbye. Dean and Parvati quickly say their goodbyes, before Parvati walks away. Dean awkwardly follows, having to go that way anyway.

And there's a moment where it's just you and Lavender, and you're just simply looking at each other. A smile pulls at the corner of her perfect pink lips. She looks so beautiful, against the drab Kings Cross station of beige and grays.

And you just kiss her. You don't know why this moment, but you do, and it was impulsive. Thinking back on it, you can't understand if you had the courage to kiss her in the middle of a crowded train station that you couldn't just ask her to the Yule Ball last year. Her lips are soft, so soft, and she smells really girly, like a meadow full of flowers.

The kiss is sweet and tentative. Your hands pull her towards you and rest on her lower back, tickled by the ends of her long hair. And she's kissing you back and her fingers wind through your hair, and she sighs softly.

You feel like you're running out of air, you haven't ever kissed a girl for this long before. You pull away and take a breath, which comes out embarrassingly like a gasp.

She's standing there, lips a little redder than they were before, mouth a tiny bit open, eyes widened, staring at you confusedly.

You're grinning like an idiot.

Her gaze shifts to something behind you, and she runs away, leaving you with a quick, "Um, bye Seamus!"

You turn, bewilderedly, and see her talking to a posh-looking man, and he takes her trunk. They leave.

"Y'arite Shay?" Mam's voice asks behind you. The whole fam's here to pick you up, Maddy, Fina, Ferguson, and Dad. They look a bit fearful though, so you smile and say of course, and follow them on the way out of the station.

Though you can't help staring back hazily at the retreating figure of Lavender Brown.

* * *

**A/N: **Long chapter. I haven't updated in a while, but I finished this so I thought I'd throw this up. Please enjoy! Also, disclaimer, this might not be canon-compliant. I tried to be as accurate as possible, but I haven't read OotP in a year, so... yeah.

* * *

**_Please review!_**


	7. Year 6

**Year 6**

* * *

(Seamus Finnigan)

You don't write her over the summer. You can't think of anything to say without embarrassing yourself. It's funny, usually you've got no problem with that.

She was surprised. She was shocked, definitely. What if she hated it? What if you were a bad kisser? What if she thought you just wanted to be friends? And she'd basically fled after.

Yes, you think, that was a right stupid thing for you to do, though you've always seem to do the stupidest thing you can. The kiss was amazing, in an exciting, new way. But she probably just wants to be friends, you conclude.

* * *

You see why she likes him so much. Hell, he's gone through more in his first year than you could ever imagine. You do get a slice of the action sometimes, but he's The Chosen One's best friend. He's fought Death Eaters. He defeated a fully-grown mountain troll in his _first year _for Merlin's sake.

You shove that thought out of your head. It isn't your fault. She's a total bitch anyway.

Yeah.

"Alright mate?" Dean asks, grabbing a piece of licorice out of your hand and looking at you with concern. "You did great, honest."

Your arm is a little sore from that one quaffle you threw with just a tiny bit of uncontrolled force, but besides that you're glad the stressful tryouts are over.

"Brill." You say.

He gets Keeper. You don't get Chaser.

* * *

"I'll see you guys." Ron says, pushing up from the ground and opening the door.

"Going to meet Lav-Lav again?" You ask him teasingly, though you desperately want to know what is happening with them, and if he's actually going to meet her and how far they've gone. You want to know if he actually genuinely fancies her, because you don't think he does. You want to know why they're together. You want to know too much.

Dean looks at you, concerned, but you ignore him.

Ron grins. "Sod off." He says, leaving the dorm, letting the thick wooden door slam behind him.

Dean doesn't drop the look.

"What?"

"I saw you two."

Your hands start idly picking at the wood floorboards. The three of you were playing Wizard's chess, and Ron has won, of course. "Again, what?"

Dean scoots closer to you. "I saw you kiss Lavender. At King's Cross."

"Nah, she... see... well, don' really matter now, does it?" You stutter, even though you know you've never been able to keep anything from Dean.

"Guess not." He says casually, picking up the chessboard and putting it on Ron's bed.

"How're things with Gin?" You ask, changing the subject. You don't want to talk about anything remotely having to do with Lavender Brown, not while she's almost definitely snogging Ron Weasley at that very moment.

Dean takes the hint. "Great, actually." He replies, grinning.

"An' the snoggin'? How's that?"

"Even better." He says, flopping onto his bed, and staring up at the ceiling. "We haven't gotten far though, we're never left alone long enough. I really fancy her, you know? And we're just... together. And that's really great."

You nod, even though you don't really know what that's like, and something in your heart pangs.

* * *

You ask Susan Bones on a date for the next Hogsmeade weekend after you melt the cauldron you were sharing in potions (how you got into N.E.W.T. potions, you'll never know) and she takes you to the Hospital wing. She says yes.

You walk around with her, then get a drink at the Three Broomsticks. She's really funny, knows about Quidditch and even supports Ireland.

You like her.

At the end of the date, you take a risk, and kiss her.

It's nice, her lips move against yours. She smells like apple pie. She's got a fine arse too.

She pulls away quickly, and with a peck on the cheek, she disappears to the Hufflepuff common room.

You can't help but feel that it was a little anti-climactic.

* * *

Every morning at breakfast, you watch Lavender drag Ron over to a spot and eat breakfast together.

You don't know why you do this. One would expect that when a bloke still (unfortunately) wanted to snog a certain girl senseless they would not want to watch her feed strawberries to her boyfriend. But you do.

You watch them because you can't help but imagine it was you doing those things with her.

Not that you would admit that to yourself.

* * *

"Dean?" You call into the room. "You in here?"

Because even though he got to fill in for Katie Bell and be on the Quidditch team and you were jealous and stupid, he's still your best mate.

"Yes." His voice calls. He's sitting in an empty classroom that must be for storage, as there are many large objects obscured by black tarp. He looks like he might cry, and you know he will, because you've tried to hide your tears from each other unsuccessfully too many times.

"Y'arite?" You ask tentatively.

"Yeah. I mean, I knew it was coming." He says. "Gin and I haven't been on good terms for a while. It's just..."

"What?"

"I think it has something to do with Harry. I think he fancies her. And you know how she's worshipped him since... well, forever." You don't know what to say, because you know that's the truth. Anyone with eyes that spends nearly as much time as you with him could tell. But Dean didn't have to know that.

So you shrug. "Dunno."

A few minutes go by of neither of you saying anything.

"I wish I'd asked Parvati." He says out of the blue. "To the Yule Ball. I wish I'd asked her all those years ago."

"Only two years ago, Dean." You chuckle, surprised, because usually Dean's the voice of reason.

He laughed. "Well, it feels like years ago."

It does.

"So... er... Ron and Lavender broke up."

"Aye, they did. Lavender's pretty cut up about it." You reply.

You expect you would be overjoyed when the two finally split, but you aren't. You're disgusted that Lavender turned into a clingy, annoying mess, and that Ron didn't dump her sooner, but instead led her on a little longer because he was too afraid. You're angry about who Lavender is now, when she used to be this flighty, seemingly carefree girl with a secret fire burning underneath. You're infuriated that Ron treated her like a burden, like he was just too good for her, instead of talking to her and telling her that it wasn't working.

You're a little glad the public shows are over, but maybe you're a little sad to see it go because you notice she didn't sigh the way she did when you kissed her at the end of fifth year, and that was a fact you held on to. Sure she would moan dramatically, even gasp, but nothing was compared to that one fully genuine sigh.

Then again, you don't even fancy her anymore, you say to yourself, so why should you care? You know it's a lie, but you say it anyway.

Dean just nods, and looks at you pointedly. You don't feel like talking about her right now, not now when you can still hear her desperate, screeching voice in your ears.

"Falcons beat the wasps 120 to 90 yesterday." You say. "And if they win again... I reckon 'gainst the Arrows, they'll be up 'gainst Kenmare."

Dean shakes his head at you, and you grin.

"Come on, mate. It's nearly curfew." He says, moving towards the door. As you walk through the corridors, you throw your arm around his neck, even though he's about five inches taller than you. He's still cut up, but you think he'll be ok.

* * *

She cries all the time now, and you absolutely hate it. Every time she cries, ever since you met her on the Hogwarts Express, your stomach twists and a lump in your throat grows.

You think you could say something to her, maybe cheer her up by making a fire during potions or something. Nah, you couldn't.

One day after Charms, she's walking out and you accidentally bump into her, and _Merlin _she still smells like wildflowers in the spring. In her hair is the same pink ribbon she's worn forever, but it's falling out, and she looks like she's about to cry again.

She at you expectantly, deep brown eyes with flecks of gold making your stomach clench.

You dumbly move out of the way, and she whips past you, a mess of gold and brown and pink.

"He didn't deserve you." You say, but you don't think she hears you.

* * *

Your mam comes for you one morning, scolding that you haven't already packed your trunk. She owled you, saying she was coming, and you told her that you wanted to stay for the funeral, so you don't quite know why she's here.

"Well, run 'long then, get yer things." She says.

You shake your head. "Mam, I'm staying, I told you in the letter..."

"Seamus." She says scoldingly. You feel blood boil in your veins.

"Mam, I've got to stay. Dumbledore..."

"Lead this school inta verra grave danger."

And now you're angry. You believed what she told you, believed _her _beliefs. You doubted obvious signs last year, just because of what she told you. But you saw, you _knew, _and the man who was the leader of the resistance against dark forces was dead. You spent enough time going against what your gut told you.

"I'm not going." You say to her.

Her mouth twists in anger, and she leans close to you like she used to when you were little. "Seamus Davin Finnigan, I am your mother, and wha' I say, you'll do."

You rebelliously step back away from her. "Can't. I'm staying."

"You'll not be stayin' anywhere, young man, if ya keep this up!"

"I am staying!"

You say. It hurts your heart to yell at this woman who gave you everything, but you stand your ground. Everyone says you should pick your battles. And if this isn't one to pick, than you can't think of a better one.

"Come along Seamus." She says sternly, reaching out and touching his shoulder.

"Nah mam." You say, moving back away from her. "I'm staying. I told you tha' I was."

"Seamus."

"I'm not going!" You shouts. "For once, I've gotta make my own decisions. I'm staying and I'm going to the funeral."

The entire Great Hall is quiet, you realize, but you won't break eye contact with her. Her eyes look like you've just broken her heart in two, and maybe you have.

She suddenly looks resigned, stepping away from him and cocking her head. "I really can't stop ya', can I?"

This is when you have to decide. You could give in and say you're sorry and hug her and leave with your mam, or you could stay.

You shake your head, and with one more glance, you walk away from her and towards the Gryffindor table. Dean scoots down and makes a spot for you, and you take it.

And you could swear, you saw Lavender out of the corner of your eye smile.

* * *

You wish you could hear what the little man in the suit was saying up at the front. You catch snippets like "everlasting spirit" and "kept us all safe".

You remember the only time you'd ever personally met the Headmaster in your second year. You'd blown up your fourth cauldron during potions, and Professor Snape had been so mad that he'd yelled in your face and told you to go to Dumbledore's office. You walked up there on wobbley legs, wondering if they were going to expell you. But Dumbledore had only entered, offered you a licorice snap, and said that it was alright, but that you had to try a bit harder to focus. He'd had kind, sparkling eyes, and you felt ok.

He really had been a kind man.

Lavender sits next to you, and you hear her quietly sigh and clamp her eyes shut, as one does when they're trying to hold in tears. You feel like you might cry, if you allow yourself, which you won't.

Without thinking about it, your hand finds hers, and you hold onto her like a tether to reality. She looks up at you, eyes full of sadness, and you wish there was some way that you could take it away, take _her _away to a place where you'd never have to see her cry again. You smile at her, hoping that will give her strength, hoping that she'll smile back at you so you can take a little ray of sunshine from the metaphorically dreary day.

She leans her head on your shoulder, letting you smell her flowery scented hair and feel how soft it is against your cheek.

You squeeze her hand. She squeezes back.

And you realize how much you want her. Not in a sexual way (although Merlin, you do too), but how you want to hold her hand forever. To be with her. She makes you feel happy even though you're sitting in the middle of a funeral.

But she's complex and you're simple, you're ordinary and she's beautiful. You aren't Harry Potter, not even Ron Weasley, you're just Seamus Finnigan.

Yet somewhere deep inside, you hope that maybe she likes just Seamus Finnigan.

* * *

(Lavender Brown)

He doesn't write you over the summer. You don't write him either.

You are nervous, perhaps you're supposed to write him? You wish you could ask your mum, but she's somewhere in Asia right now, and you know owling overseas costs a fortune, and you don't have much money of your own to spend. You sat for hours in your room, analyzing the kiss, wondering why out of all the guys you've ever kissed, Seamus' was the most... electrifying.

He just wants to be friends, you suddenly think. That's why he hasn't written. Obviously this means that he doesn't want anything from you, maybe it was a joke, or a bet or something.

You decide to clear him from your mind. He's just a boy, after all.

* * *

"Doesn't he look so handsome in his Quidditch uniform?" You giggle to Parvati.

The air is crisp and cold outside, especially for this early on in the year. A mass of red and gold uniforms swim before you on the pitch, each carrying brooms and glancing around up into the stands. You zip your pink jacket up tightly, and you _swear _Ron looks up at you. "Doesn't he?"

She smiles and nods, though you see her slightly looking at Dean. You don't say anything about it, because you want to continue selfishly talking about your crush.

He's there too. He tries out for Chaser. He flies well, but not as fast as the others. You dismiss him from your thoughts, because _Ron _is here, and who is _Seamus _to _Ron, _right?

"He's so brave too." You say, tilting your head to the side and inspecting his tall, ginger body. "And positively _yummy._"

"He is, Lav." Parvati replies, but sounds automatic.

He's talking to Hermione.

_Ugh._

He looks a little nervous, which is oh so cute, and you just want to eat him up he's that adorable.

He's about to be up and you rush up to him, and breathlessly wish him luck. He seems a little surprised at first, and then blushes. He smiles confidently, and strides out. He's _so cute._

Darting back to Parvati, the two of you watch as Keeper tryouts begin.

You don't notice Seamus sitting with Dean across the pitch, chewing on some licorice and laughing.

You _won't._

* * *

"WEAS-LEY! WEAS-LEY! WEAS-LEY!" The crowd chants. Your hair is perfect and curled, a red polish on your nails, and a bubble in your throat because Ron was the reason Gryffindor won, he's such a hero.

He's the prince.

He's shoved down back onto his feet, and you make your move. In a split second, your lips smash into his clumsily, and your hands touch ginger hair. His lips move against yours, inexperienced. Everyone cheers and whistles and claps, and you simply _love _the attention. Eat your heart out, Hermione Granger.

When you finally pull away, you vaguely notice a head of bushy brown hair isn't part of the crowd anymore.

Ron notices too.

So you kiss him again.

* * *

He's Ron, he's your Won-Won, your boyfriend, and you two are in love. You both can barely keep your hands off each other, and with every little kiss (well, they're never really little, are they?) you feel like you float just a little higher off the ground.

You kiss him all the time, whenever you can, because that inferno of hormones you grew two years ago burns and roars so much louder now. And he's a boy and he's hot and you just can't help wanting him to drag his hands all over you.

Your hand slips into his pants, and you shiver as his hands travel up under your shirt.

And you say to yourself that his kisses are better than any you've ever had, because they are, right?

* * *

You pretend you don't hear Granger crying late at night. You know she watches you and Ron, whenever you're together, like the vindictive jealous bitch she is. You know for a fact that she hates your guts.

Well, you hate hers too.

You know Fay Dunbar and Patty Horncrack whisper about you behind your back, your now-ex-friends. You remember when you used to be close with them, when you all used to giggle at Seamus, Dean, Terry, Anthony, and Michael's different antics. You remember when Patty admitted she liked Neville and you fell off the bed in shock. You remember Fay talking about becoming an Auror, already researching about the training program. You remember how Hermione used to talk to you all too, and the five of you would sit in a circle and play games.

You hold onto the fact that you are Ron's _girlfriend, _and Hermione isn't, she's _only his friend. _You know deep down that that title won't help you.

You hate that Hermione so obviously likes Ron. You hate that that Ron so obviously misses Hermione. You hate Fay and Patty, for turning their backs on you, and you hate Harry bloody Potter, for constantly making back-handed insults about you every time he's around. You hate that even Parvati rolls her eyes at your sometimes. You hate how desperate you feel lately. You hate all of them and your mum and your dad who haven't written in weeks and the entire bloody castle, for that matter.

* * *

You see the necklace in a shop when you're with your mum, and you buy it on a whim, saying that you're going to send it to your _boyfriend _who you _love. _

Mum smiles her perfect red-lipped smile, but says that she could have just sent Eloise out. This is the second shopping trip you've ever been on with her, and you had to practically beg her to take you. You're in this wizarding village that you don't remember the name of, but all the shops are covered in white snow and you feel ecstatic to be walking through it with your mum.

So you buy it, and decide you're going to send it to him so he can have it for Christmas, because you insisted you wanted to pick something out special.

"Congratulations, baby." She says, smoothing out the fly aways coming off your hair. "You've found your boy."

* * *

Nobody told you. You're his bloody _girlfriend, for Merlin's sake! _Yet still, you felt like you were the very last to know.

Ron was poisoned. No one knows by who, but he'd been poisoned with a love potion from that minger Romilda Vane, and then poisoned again by something else, no one would say what.

But of course Hermione was there. She stayed the entire night, and when you entered the Hospital wing in the morning, she was asleep in a chair next to his bed, fluffy hair sticking out everywhere.

_How could she expect that Ron would like her looking like that?_ You told yourself. _No possible way._

But there's a little voice in the back of your mind that disagrees.

You knew she fancied him.

You didn't care.

You saw what you wanted, and you took it. You took it all for yourself, because you said that you were more beautiful than her, and you wanted to prove to yourself that she couldn't get your way. You could get your prince because you were lovely.

You leave the hospital wing, heart heavy full of unwanted realities that you will push away.

* * *

"But... I mean, that can't be _all, _right?" You ask Harry fervently. You've been asking Harry about Ron and his feelings and intentions, simply because it's been too long since you've actually gotten to talk to him.

You can feel Harry getting annoyed with you, but you press on.

He looks like he's about to fall asleep into his porridge. "Look, why don't you talk to Ron about all this?"

"Well, I would, but he's always asleep when I go and see him!" You say, fighting to keep your voice not quivering.

"Is he?" says Harry, surprised.

And in that moment, you acknowledge to yourself that it's true, that yes he's pretending to be asleep. That he's shutting you out. Why? Could it be something that someone told him? Had Hermione somehow convinced him of...?

"Is Hermione Granger still visiting him?" You demand suddenly.

"Yeah, I think so. Well, they're friends, aren't they?" Harry says uncomfortably.

"Friends, don't make me laugh." You say scornfully. "She didn't talk to him for weeks after he started going out with me! But I suppose she wants to make up with him now he's all interesting..."

Deep down, you know that isn't true. You may be known for being ditzy, but you've spent years with the girl. Ever since fourth year, she'd been smitten with him. She would still like him even if he got both his legs and arms chopped off and permanent face boils.

"Would you call getting poisoned being interesting?" Asks Harry, and you're taken aback. "Anyway - sorry, got to go - there's McLaggen coming for a talk about Quidditch." Says Harry, and dashes away.

You're left with his words echoing in your ears.

* * *

"What were you doing up there with _her_?" You shriek,even _you _hating the sound of your voice. Ron stands there, dumbfounded while Hermione comes into the light behind him. Walking out of the boy's dormitory, no less!

"We - Lav, I - nothing! - and -" He splutters. Hermione looks a little shocked, and you suddenly want to smack that expression off her face. And you're just so full of hate, hate, hate and it's pent up inside you and you just want to roar, to breathe fire, to punch a hole in a wall.

"Oh sure, you're doing _nothing._" You spit. "All alone up there in a _dorm, _with a bunch of _beds."_

"Lavender -" Hermione starts sympathetically.

"Don't." You hiss at her. She immediately shuts up and steps behind Ron. You hate that she does this, she's making you feel like a wolf coming to gobble the dainty little princess up. But that's wrong, you're the dainty little princess and she's the bitch who stole your boyfriend.

"Lav -"

"Choose Ron." You say angrily. "Choose. Her... or me."

His face is a mask of fear and confusion, looking at you frightfully. "Lavender, she's my best friend."

"I'M YOUR GIRLFRIEND!" You roar, and stomp your foot like a petulant little girl.

He says nothing, merely looks at you.

You step up to him, getting right up in his face. And you can just _tell _that he desperately just wants to leave, to run away. But Merlin dammit, you're the queen and you rule your kingdom, and you desperately trying to hold onto him has been going on for too long.

"This is it." You say, shoving his chest. "We're _over._"

And they come again, the diamond tears. The tears that feel like they should be real, but they aren't. They don't leave tracks, they just spring out of your eyes as if one cue. You can feel everyone in the common room staring at you, and for once you hate the attention. Because you just simply _know _that all of them are rooting for Hermione.

So you run.

* * *

You cry and cry and cry. That's all you feel like you do lately.

He dusts some snow off her shoulder during breakfast. The tears fall again. You know people think you're overreacting.

But you just can't help noticing how gently he touches her, how he sneaks peeks at her all the time, how he smiles that secret smile that's only for her.

He's hers. She's his. And even you couldn't get in the way of that.

You feel like you need to punch something again.

* * *

You stomp upstairs, Parvati quick behind you, and into the empty dorm room.

"Did you see her today?" You ask, angrily kicking off your shoes. "When she named all those potions? Merlin, she was so smug."

"Lav, no she wasn't."

"Well, she insulted Divination. Said it was a load of codswallop. Probably just because she's so unromantic and logical that she can't possibly fathom it, I'd say!"

"She's always been a little closed-minded." Parvati says, shrugging. You suddenly feel angry again, the hate monster that's been growing inside you needs another chance to breathe. It's been coming up for air a lot lately.

"I don't expect _you _to agree me, since you and the Wicked Witch are such chums now." You say spitefully, remembering how you came in late for charms, and Parvati was paired up with Hermione, and you had to work with Neville.

"Lavender." Parvati says steadily.

"What?" You snap, and find yourself glaring muderously at her.

And suddenly everything just falls apart. You don't feel angry... just... drained. Sad. Since when are you snapping at Parvati? She's been your only friend who's stuck with you through all of this.

You crumple, hugging her tightly, breathing in the familiar cinnamon scent of the shampoo she's been using since first year because her mother recommended it to her to make hair shinier. She hugs you tightly back, like she can sense that your resolve's finally broke, that you're really just a vain, lonely little girl with a pink ribbon in her hair, walking around inside herself, listening to her own footsteps for too long.

"Parvati, I'm so sorry! I'm s-ss - I just..." You splutter against her, the tears spilling out of your eyes. They're real tears this time, not the diamonds that you used to cry when you didn't get your way.

"It's alright, it's alright." In that calming, motherly way that Parvati's always possessed. Now that you think about it, she is everything to you. Your mother and your best friend and your secret keeper, and you shut her out and didn't listen to her, even when you knew she spoke the truth. Always there when you cry to calm you down.

She brings you over to her bed, and lifts the covers. You both crawl in and you cling to her, like you used to when there was a big thunderstorm and you where afraid of the lightening. It's silent, but a good kind of silent, navy blue and vast, canceling out sound and calming your muscles.

"I love you." You whisper into her hair.

"Love you too." She says, and you can hear her smile through the words.

* * *

The year ends.

"Bye Lavender." Parvati says tearfully. Padma and her mum and dad wait expectantly, shepherding the two of them away. Parents have been coming all morning, whisking their children away in the carriages.

You give her a bone-crushing hug, because you're not certain you'll see her again next year. She hugs you back, quietly crying into your hair. You release her, and watch her silhouette leave the ironically sunny Great Hall.

You move, sit down at the breakfast table next to Patty. Neither of you say anything. You eat mechanically, and then McGonagall comes and takes a recount of the few that still remain. You wonder if your parents knew what was happening and just assumed you'd want to stay, or that they hadn't bothered to find out what was happening.

Out of nowhere, you hear a boy yelling. Everyone turns, and your breath hitches because you _know _that voice.

He's standing there, staring defiantly at a woman with sandy hair, like him, and must be his mother. His face in angry, his fists clenched, but you can tell his eyes are sad.

"Come along Seamus." She says sternly, reaching out and touching his shoulder.

"Nah mam." He says, moving back away from her. "I'm staying. I told you tha' I was."

His accent is thicker than you can ever remember hearing, and you don't know why.

"Seamus."

"'M not goin'." He shouts. "For once, I've gotta make my own decisions. 'M stayin' and 'm goin' ta the funeral."

You heard overheard Neville talking about a shouting match Seamus and his mother had gotten into previously, the day you and Parvati skipped breakfast and slept in. You can't really imagine that it happened, though. Seamus loves his mum more than anything.

The woman looks resigned, stepping away from him and cocking her head. "I really can't stop ya', can I?"

Seamus shook his head, and with a parting glace, walks over to the Gryffindor table and past McGonagall. You don't know why, but inside something deep within you lets out a breath of awe.

* * *

The sun is shining brightly. McGonagall leads the Gryffindors to their assigned seats. There are hundreds of chairs, half already being taken up by adults. There are so many different people here, you see a woman with pink hair sitting with your third-year Defense teacher Professor Lupin. Lots of men in black clothes that look official sit to the left, and you think they're from the ministry. It surprises you how many people's lives were truly touched by Dumbledore. Umbridge is here, too, with the Minister of Magic himself. Old wizards with dusty cloaks dot around the odd creatures that look non-human.

A beautiful white tomb sits on a marble pedestal. It shines beautifully in the sunlight. You wish Parvati were here.

Someone sits next to you, and you see out of the corner of your eye that it's Seamus.

The ceremony starts, a little man in a black suit steps up and starts saying things, but your so far back that you can only hear bits and pieces.

You feel your eyes start to swell up, so you screw them shut. You feel a rough hand clasp yours, and you look up at him. Seamus' eyes look a little swollen too, but he's trying to be strong. He meets your gaze, and you immediately warm. He gives you a watery smile, and then looks back up to the front.

You're relieved and glad that he's here, that he'll hold your hand as you cry, that you've still got Flammable Finnigan, even if you haven't talked to him in an entire year. You lean your head on his shoulder, and he squeezes your hand. You squeeze back.

You cry some more, but you resolve that this will be your last cry of the year.

You think it's silly, almost selfish that you're crying. You never spoke to him, never knew him other than as the Headmaster with the twinkly eyes.

But you cry because of the sad melody you hear and the people around you sobbing and the fact that whenever there was any shred of danger, you weren't really afraid, because he was alive. The older kids would talk about Dumbledore, "as long as we've got Dumbledore, Hogwarts is safe". They spoke about him like he was some god walking on the earth, the patron angel of Hogwarts, a symbol of hope and safety.

But in the end, he was just as human as... well, you.

At this realization, you notice a crack in your dream castle wall.

* * *

**A/N: **Wow this was a long chapter. Fair warning, though, next year is a big year, and it will also be a pretty long chapter. Thanks to everyone that reviewed, it means so much to me(:

Any dialogue you recognize was taken directly from Half-Blood Prince (by JKR), no copyright infringement intended.**  
**

* * *

**_Please review!_**


	8. Year 7

**Year 7**

* * *

(Lavender Brown)

"Miss Brown?"

You turn, the men in black suits are looking at you expectantly, albeit concerned. "Is there anyone we can call, or...?"

"No." You say tightly. "No, that won't be necessary."

They look even more concerned, if possible. Not because they are worried about you, but because they must be thinking that it might be illegal to leave an orphaned girl alone at a crime scene (though you are technically of age).

But they exit, eventually, leaving you standing in the middle of a charred living room.

They did not die a hero's death. They were not killed because they stood up to the dark side, because they fought. No, Mr. and Mrs. Brown were killed simply because Mr. Brown had made a bad investment with a couple of Death Eater's galleons, and since the Browns were not completely pure, it was no great loss.

You look around. Bits of the top of the couch still remained, floating in a slight breeze through the broken window. The few pieces of the fabric still stretch over parts, looking like a skeleton with sparse skin left. Picture frames are smashed, sitting where they must have been kicked to. Shards of glass from the front door and windows littered the floor, along with crumpled papers and other dubris. The royal purple wallpaper was ripped in one spot, but still mostly in tact. The smell of charred wood is still slightly present in the air.

They'd taken mum and dad's bodies already, to be kept until the funeral. They must have killed Eloise the House Elf along with your parents, or maybe just taken her. She was nowhere to be found.

It's just you, completely alone.

You creep up the stairs, purposefully not holding the wooden railing as you go.

Nothing looks damaged, or even touched. You take your first steps, and then hurriedly decide to take off your shoes. Dropping them on either side of you, you think that it's actually pretty dumb, there could be glass everywhere. But you do it anyway.

The sensation of cold wood touches your feet as you move through the hallway. You peek into your room to find it still untouched since you left it last year.

You find yourself in your mother's room next.

It's completely untouched. There's even still a glass of brandy sitting on the table next to her bed. The vanity mirror sits to the left, affording a reflection of the clean and organized room.

You feel like a ghost, walking farther into the room, interrupting the silence that had occupied it since she was killed.

Suddenly, you feel tired. No, exhausted. Like you can't take another step.

You crawl into your mother's bed, burying yourself in the cream-colored sheets, smelling your mum's smell, and the wave of depression finally hits you.

You're an orphan now.

And you cry. You let your tears fall onto the soft goose-feather pillows and you clutch yourself, feeling more alone than you ever had before.

* * *

The funeral is long. Both your grandparents are dead on both sides, and neither had any siblings, and you think you're the only family there. Everything is black, unlike Dumbledore's funeral. Lots of people come, wearing stylish clothes and whispering things like "shame, really..." and "how tragic!", though you feel like they're only there to socialize. You don't think your mother or father ever had any real friends.

But you pick yourself up and prepare to go to Hogwarts. You know everything will be different now that Dumbledore's gone. You hope with all your heart that somehow McGonagall has retained the position, though you know that it will probably be Snape as Headmaster.

You pack your trunk haphazardly. You don't have the energy to debate whether you should take the pink jumper or the purple one.

* * *

You haven't communicated with anyone over the summer.

Platform 9 and 3/4 is not as you remember it, with the shiny big red train and everyone merrily bustling about in happy chaos. No, today the train is a dull crimson and men in official black cloaks are shepherding students onto the train, marking each student as they pass. Pale-faced families reluctantly let go of their children, watching them disappear, and wondering if they'll see them again.

You lug your trunk up to an entrance, where you tell a man that you're Lavender Brown. He scratches a quill across the parchment, and then nods for you to get on.

The first people you see are Ginny Weasley and Neville Longbottom, sitting with a sixth year you recognize as Vicky Frobisher.

Neville nods at you, and Ginny smiles weakly. You give them a small smile of recognition, but continue down the hall. You're not sure if you're going to see Parvati.

And then you see Seamus, and to your surprise, your heart speeds up considerably. He looks completely lost without Dean at his side, shuffling into a compartment. You can't help noticing that he's grown almost six inches, and his sandy hair is longer than you remember.

But he really looks like a man, to you. A strong, broad-shouldered man.

You want to reach out to him, want to touch him, just a skim over his arm, to make sure that he's actually there. That you're not imagining him. You feel your feet moving you toward the compartment he went into, and you open the door.

Inside, sixth years who you vaguely knew as Mandy Brocklehurst and Isobel MacDougal sat with Anthony Goldstein, Terry Boot, and Michael Corner. No one is talking and it's silent, but it's comforting to see familiar faces.

You sit down next to Seamus silently. You meet his eyes, and he smiles at you like he's so relieved to see you. You imagine you look the same. His hand closes around yours automatically, and you ride the trip in silence, him holding onto you like he's afraid you'll slip away.

* * *

You walk into your dormitory, and it's like a giant weight has been dropped on your stomach when you see that no trunks are there. You stand, staring at your lone trunk propped against the foot of your bed, afraid to go any farther into the room.

Maybe you're too sentimental, but it's like staring at a grave yard. Beds that used to be occupied by trunks and blankets and sleeping girls are bare and cold. Closets are empty, once filled with clothing and shoes. Air that used to be filled with laughter and chatter now rings in silence.

"Lavender?"

You whip around to find Parvati standing there, holding her trunk, staring at you in excited disbelief.

"Parvati!" You breathe, and fall into her arms. "Oh my Merlin I thought you weren't coming this year, I didn't know where you were, I..."

"I didn't know either, I didn't see you on the train..."

Fay and Patty don't come back. Neither does Hermione, but you expected that. She must be off with Harry and Ron, maybe doing something to save the world. Despite everything that happened, you hope they're all safe and unharmed.

But even with Parvati lying in the bed next to you, you can't sleep that night. There's too many dreadful thoughts echoing around in your mind about the days to come.

* * *

School is a prison.

Muggle Studies consists of false information, made-up diseases, and hurtful words all about muggles. They are spoke of as if they are equal to flubberworms. The Carrow sister teaches it, saying things like muggles have smaller brains than magical folk, that they have to be exterminated, like they're some kind of vermin.

Detentions that once were polishing trophies and sorting seeds now mean beatings, hexes, and unbearable pain.

You watch as right before your eyes people you've grown up with are ridiculed and hurt, both physically and emotionally. It eats at your soul, that this place that was once a heaven turned into hell.

* * *

In resistance, Dumbledore's Army is reformed.

It's different now. Not fun, sneaking around, children playing imaginary battles. No, it is war now, and life or death is a very real concept. Eventually, you and Parvati retreat to the Room of Requirement, where others had been staying. The Carrows knew the dorm passwords, and when the two of you came back from Charms one afternoon, you found your entire room ransacked and painted green.

You feel a bit safer knowing that you're surrounded and guarded when you sleep at night.

* * *

He's laid at your lap. Neville's the one that brought him back after this time. It's the usual, some internal bleeding, some cuts, lots of bruises. A black eye this time too, making his face look more like some human scarecrow than the boyish grin it was before.

Though he's smiling now, as you gather up potions and bandages. "Aye Lav."

You put on your best scolding face as you unroll the bandaging tape. "Don't 'aye Lav' me." You say, badly mimicking his Irish lilt.

He chuckles a little, but then cringes in pain. "Yer like me guardian angel." His accent thicker than usual from pain. "Fixin' me up 'n keepin' me 'live."

And you look down at him, his body all bruised and bloody, and you simply want to cry because you don't know what you'd do if one of these days no one was there to bring him back after a detention. You imagine him writhing in pain on the floor, and you feel like you might throw up.

"One of these days you're going to get yourself killed." You say briskly, rolling a bandage around a cut that looks deeper than the others. It's a new one, you note sadly.

You force him to drink a few potions, for swelling and pain relief, and he does. You stay after giving him the pain reliever every time, because he becomes uninhibited with his speech. You know it's sick that you do this, you feel like you're taking advantage of him. But you long to hear what he really thinks behind all the jokes.

He coughs a little, but downs a glass of the sleep potion you give him. He always has to sleep off the injuries.

He cocks his head and looks at you, taking your chin in his grasp. "Yer so pretty Lav." He says. "Merlin, n' bloody hot-t too." His speech starts to slur, and then he curses the Carrows some more, like he always does.

But then he turns back to you, and looks at you.

_Looks _at you. Up and down, spanning all the way over your body, and you feel that ache again. It's a flashback to the Yule Ball, a familiar urge to promptly snog his face off, among other things.

He gulps.

"Y-yer beautiful Lavender." He says. "But lonely t-too. An' lost. But I'm goin' ta find you."

His head lolls back on your lap and he begins to snore softly. Your heart catches.

You push a few pieces of hair off his face, running your hands along his cheeks, tracing his lips lightly with your finger. He's lovely, this boy, you realize. You don't know why you ever thought that there was anyone else. He did not speak poetically, or excel in Charms, or even play on the House Qudditch team. But this boy, this fart-joke making, accidental pyrotechnician, brave, bright boy is lovely.

And Seamus Finnigan has got you all figured out. He's the only one that has.

* * *

That night, remember your mother again. Her bouncy sunshine hair, and her long, black lashes and red lips, her matching outfits and infectious laugh.

But this time, you remember everything. You remember the cold, vacant look in her eyes, remember the constant brandy drinking. You remember the way she would look at herself in the mirror, as if looking at a picture in a magazine of someone else.

You don't think she was ever happy when she was alive.

You don't want that for yourself anymore.

* * *

You have nightmares like you've never had them before.

They're more painful, you think. Your nightmares usually consisted of you running from something, something chasing you, some sort of theoretical monster. Never anyone else in the dream but yourself.

These, though, are so realistic it's as if someone reached into your heart and poked a needle into it. There are men in black cloaks, and they have snake fangs for teeth, and they kill, kill, kill. They're sometimes about Parvati, though more often Seamus. You watch them die.

One night, you wake up after a particularly terrible one, pillow soaked and tears still running down your face. You feel afraid in the darkness of the room, and suddenly you desperately need to see Seamus, to make sure he's alive. You need to see him draw in a breath and then exhale.

You run to his hammock, and take a deep, relieving breath when you see his familiar face, albeit bloodied up, in quiet sleep, mouth open unattractively as small snores come out. Your fingers itch to touch him, to hug him, to wrap yourself around him and never let go, because you know he'll protect you. You touch his cheek, where a scar is forming that will probably never go away.

His deep breathing suddenly stops, and you watch his eyes open blearily. "Lavender?"

You retract your hand quickly, and look bashfully down at your feet. "Sorry."

He meets your eyes, propping himself up with his hand. "What's going on? Is everything ok?"

"Yes, yes, everything's fine. Sorry." You say, preparing to turn away.

"Hey." You feel his hand grasp your wrist. "What's wrong?"

"_Nothing_." You insist. He raises an eyebrow, obviously not believing you. "I just... I had a nightmare, and I needed to make sure that..." You take a breath, desperately trying not to cry. "...that you were still, um, alive."

A fat tear makes a track down your cheek, and you sigh in defeat.

"Lav, I'm right here, see?" He says desperately, reaching out to touch you to prove that he's really there.

When you look back up at his face, he's looking down at you with concern and obvious comfort. His hand moves to your chin, wiping the tear away with the pad of his thumb. His fingers run through your hair, and a lump grows in your throat.

"You wear your hair up a lot more now." He says sadly. "No more pink ribbon."

"Gets in the way of making potions. Also, it's too much of a disadvantage if I'm ever in a fight." You say. The words surprise you, as if someone else has inhabited your body. They are so very different than who you used to be. The old Lavender Brown would never have talked about getting into a fight in such nonchalant terms. Or wear her hair up in the messy ponytail you wore now.

He lets his hand drop. You turn away slowly and walk back, but wanting nothing more than to jump into his hammock with him.

* * *

It's the first time you've ever felt up-close the wrath of the Carrows. Usually you stay behind, darting and scampering around in the cover of night, patching up those who've been victims, hoarding all the medicine Madame Pomphrey can sneak you, delivering messages, keeping quiet. It's funny, you never used to be quiet.

But it was a girl, a little girl this time, with dark blond hair and brown eyes and a blue ribbon in her hair, and she reminded you so powerfully of yourself, of that small, helpless little girl you used to be. Avery raises his wand to demonstrate how to properly conjure an Extreme Stinging Jinx, and you yank the girl out of the way and pull her tight against you, as if you could just apparate away to somewhere safe, somewhere where all the food tastes like cake and all anyone worries about is what dress they're going to wear that morning.

And then the male Carrow (you think) takes hold of the back of your head and leads you away out of the classroom, whispering in your ear that you should never disobey, for you will feel pain like you've never felt it before.

He drops you down on the cold, stone floor. You think this used to be the potions room - no, you're somewhere on the third floor, that can't be. You try to stand up, but he shoves your shoulder back down with the heel of his shoe.

"What's your name?" He whispers into your ear, breath reeking and voice snake-like.

"Lavender Brown." You say evenly, for you are Lavender Brown, the lion-hearted girl, who fears nothing. You state your name proudly.

He growls, circling you like you're his prey.

"Pretty one." He says almost thoughtfully. His dirty fingers run through your hair, reminding you of the way Seamus does. You feel sick that he's done something so personal to you that you try to kick up, but barely end up grazing him.

He laughs a deep laugh, but lets go of your hair. "Smell good too."

He leans in, sniffing around, fingers ghosting down your arms. His cracked lips begin to suck on your neck, and you want to scream, scream and call for help, even though no one can hear you. You feel disgusted, _he is disgusting_. You don't want him doing this to you, violating you like this.

His hands suddenly grab onto your breasts and that is _it, _you knee him right in the groin, sending him off you growling in pain. You jump up and run to the door, desperately trying to pull it open, but it's locked, and your wand is sitting in the Room of Requirement right now. His hand rips you away from the door and back against the wall.

"Oh, you'll pay for that!" He shouts, and points his wand straight at you. "Crucio!"

And then you feel pain, pain like you've never felt before, like someone has cut you open and taken out your insides. All over, from the tips of your toes to the top of your head is filled with pain, sharp, biting, knifing pain, and you hear yourself cry out, screaming, but your ears seem so plugged up that it's muted, and the corners of your vision begin to get blurry.

"Crucio!"

You focus on Seamus, because he's your rock, he is your stable thing. You try to focus on that lopsided smile, and his woodsy-tree scent, and the way that he can always make you laugh. The way he never used to do his homework, the way he always knew those useless facts about various Quidditch teams, and his Irish accent. He is sunshine and laughter and light and _fire, _and he saves you from the dark. He's squeezing your hand, whispering in your ear "Be strong, my angel. My lion-hearted girl."

"_Crucio!_"

You try to be strong, _for Seamus_, but you feel your resolve slipping. The pain cuts you deep. You are weak.

Right before your vision turns to black, you see the silky pink ribbon you were wearing in your hair being crushed by a big, black, dirty boot.

* * *

You open your eyes slowly, you're in the Room of Requirement, staring at Hannah Abott's back.

Your throat feels swollen, like you haven't had anything to drink in days. You lick your dried lips before mumbling, "Hannah?"

The blond whips around, running over to your bedside. You only now realize you're on a cot, not in a hammock.

"Lavender, how are you feeling?" She asks you kindly, she's always been nice, you think.

"Like shit." You say, the taste of the brutal words on your lips.

She moves away for a moment, bustling around and digging her hands into what you think are the medicine boxes. She returns next to you with a purple-blue potion you recognize as a pain reliever.

"You're going to need this." She says, uncorking it and pouring some into one of the glasses some of the girls nicked from the kitchens a couple weeks ago.

You take the glass and force yourself to drink all of it. It isn't necessarily a bad-tasting potion (as potions go), it tastes rather like too-sour orange juice, but it hurts you to swallow. Hannah sits back on her heals and watches you until you drain the glass.

"Demelza. Come here."

Demelza Robbins, a current fifth year with thick curly brown hair appears at the side of Hannah. "Yes?"

"Where is Seamus?"

"'Think he's out getting food with Neville."

"When he gets back, tell him Lavender's awake. He'll want to know." She says, and Demelza disappears.

You watch Hannah catalog potions for a while, vision mildly unfocused. You sit up slowly, head screaming for you to lay back down. After a while, you hear the portrait hole open and hear his Irish lilt. "Hannah, Dem just told me, is she - ?"

His blue-green eyes blink once, and in a moment he's next to you.

"Lavender." He breathes.

You try to smile, but the muscles in your face still feel sore. His arms wrap around you and pulls you to him, and although it hurts like hell, you hug him back, because there was a moment when you truly thought that you would never get to hear his voice again.

He pulls back, looking you over, hands on your arms, still tethering you to him. "I - I... Mandy brought you back, said you were unconscious... What... What happened...? You were totally limp, Lav - "

You feel your heart hammer in your chest because even among the Gryffindors, Seamus Finnigan would be the last to admit he was scared. Words are spilling out of him, probably faster than he means them too, an awkward wave of feelings and thoughts, but he's never been suave. That's probably one of the things you love about him, the way he just erupts like this like he just can't seem to hold anything in for one more second.

By this time, Hannah's left with Neville, and you bury your head in his chest.

You can hear him whisper into your hair, "You didn't see, Lav, you were all bloodied up, and I was _so_ afraid."

And you shove him away, beating on his chest with as much strength as you can muster right now. "How do you think I feel Seamus Finnigan? I have to see you looking worse than this on a daily basis!" You yell at him angry, watching his face contort in pain. You hope you hurt him, you _want _to hurt him, he needs to know. "What if one of these days, _you don't come back?"_

And there it is. The reality that no one was ready to admit out loud.

His eyes look like you've just gutted him, like you've cut open his chest and ripped out his heart, and threw it to the ground.

"Lavender - "

You fall against him again, because you can't bear to look at his hurt eyes anymore. You hear his heart beating, it's your new favorite sound. It tells you he's still alive, he's still there.

* * *

You stand against the foggy castle windows on the fourth floor, breathing in the cold, biting air. You can't remember why you're up here, but when you see Seamus standing with his back to you staring out the window, you walk up next to him. Your cuts and bruises have mostly healed, and you intertwine your fingers with his.

He has been more quiet than usual lately.

"It's not safe to be here." He says.

"You're here. Wherever you are, I'm safe." You say. It's strange, the way things are so different with Seamus. The tried-and-true way to get a boy to like you is to play coy, never show your cards, always be in control. But with this boy, in this moment, you are honest and vulnerable, and you can't understand why.

"I can't always protect you Lavender." He says painfully, and you know that this is hard for him to say. He has always had a bit of a hero complex, even with Harry Potter sharing a dorm with him.

His thumb caresses the back of your hand soothingly, like the way he did back in fifth year, and you follow his gaze out the window. The stars are out tonight, and almost a full moon as well.

"You think we could ever just run away?" He asks, his words slightly echoing through the corridor.

"You don't want to do that." You say. "You're too much of a warrior."

"Says you." He says playfully, like a ray of sunshine in an otherwise cloudy sky.

"I'm no warrior." You say.

Suddenly, he is serious. His fingers brush through your hair, making shivers run down your spine.

"Lavender Brown, you are one of the bravest people I know."

And you can't take it any more, can't take any more of this tension, so you take a fistful of his shirt and pull him to your lips.

Your lips smash together, and there is nothing polite or sweet about this kiss, not like that one back at King's cross. No, this is a burning fire, wanting to consume _more, more, more_. You're burned by his fire touch, flames lingering everywhere his fingers skim, and you drink in his delicious smell.

His hands grasp possessively around your hips, and he squeezes them as he deepens the kiss, and your entire body is electrified, sparks flying everywhere, your hands twisting the hair at the nape of his neck.

His lips move down your neck, he buries his face in your hair, sucking the skin beneath your earlobe and you bite back a loud moan because _Merlin if that isn't the best feeling in the world. _He ravishes your neck, devouring you, and you love it, but you pull him back up to your lips. You press yourself against him, molding yourself against the hard line of his body, and you hear him groan against your mouth.

When you finally pull away, both of your breathing is erratic and lips are swollen. His hair is sticking every which way because of your hands, and he's looking at you the way no one ever has before.

And your heart almost bursts because you love him, you _love _him and he is the first one to see you for who you really are, not just silly Lavender Brown, and he makes you feel so _strong._

* * *

You see his lone silhouette, standing at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, enough distance between him and the castle so that he won't be seen. His hammock was empty, and he wasn't out on a mission, and you had a strong sense he would be here. You move silently across the grass, coming up next to him.

He's looking out into the darkened trees with eery calmness.

"I haven't been outside in two months. _Two months." _His voice echoes sadness, accent sounding thick. You've noticed it gets like that when he's angry or in pain, or thinks about home. "Mam says fresh air is good for the soul, cleanses ya' of all typs'a inner demons."

He takes a long, deep breath.

"I spent most a' me childhood outside. Flyin', runnin', chasin'." He breathes a laugh. "Lush, rollin' green hills, thas' what Ireland's like. Well a'course, not all of it, but where me home is. You ever been?"

You shake your head.

"It's beautiful." He says, as if he's seeing it right in front of him. "I'm goin' ta take you there. Once we escape this hellhole."

Your heart aches painfully, because the unspoken, _"if we live" _is practically screaming at you. But you smile at him, and say, "I'd really like that."

You kiss his rough, stubbled cheek. Your arms hug his left upper arm, and the two of you stand there looking into the trees until it's almost too dark to see the way back to the castle.

* * *

It's dark.

You snuck your way into his hammock, and the two of you lie there, Seamus staring up at the ceiling. You trace flowers with your fingertip on his bare chest as he breathes deeply in and out.

You snuggle closer to him, pulling the basically threadbare blanket closer around the two of you.

"Seamus?" You whisper.

"Yeah?"

You pause. "I'm scared."

You hear him swallow thickly. He replies after a minute, "Me too."

You wish you could just stay here forever, against his strong and warm body.

You know that's just a fantasy.

But it's a nice one. You savor this moment, and you let yourself drift into sleep wrapped up in his arms.

* * *

(Seamus Finnigan)

"No. Absolu'ly not, Seamus." She screams in your ear for the tenth bloody time today. You stare down at your dinner, you can't look at her in the eyes. Pushing peas around on your plate, you try to think about anything but what's happening.

"If you think for one _bloody second _that I'm lettin' you go back to tha' place, you're mad!"

You shove your chair out from the table violently, leaving your dinner half finished because you don't think you can stomach much more. Slamming your door behind you, you pull covers on your bed over you, letting your eyes stare a hole into your packed suitcase.

* * *

It's early, the sun just begins to rise. You've already got your trunk down the stairs without much ruckus, and now all you've got to do is get your jacket and you're out of there.

You think about getting some breakfast, your stomach rumbling, and you enter the kitchen.

Coming face to face with your dad, sitting at the kitchen table with his arms crossed. You freeze, jacket and spare book in hand.

He looks up, eyes tired and disappointed.

"This isn't like you, Seamus. Sneakin' off without a word."

You say nothing.

"It's not safe -"

"It's not safe anywhere, dad." You spit out. "If I can get back to Hogwarts, then I can at least finish school. I can't take another minute here."

He stares at you for a long time. His face is like an older version of yours, basically the same structure. He looks you over, as if he's searching for something he might have missed.

And suddenly, he gets up, and pulls you into a hug.

Still clutching your jacket, you're bewildered. Your dad has never hugged you, as far back as you can remember. Not that he wasn't caring, but physical contact was more his mam's thing.

"I love ya' son." He says, his voice heavy with emotion. You're starting to get a little choked up, and swallow thickly. You feel a bit scared, what if you never see the family again? You're sure that's what he must be thinking. "An' your mam loves you too, she's just worried -"

"Thanks, dad."

He hugs you tighter, big, calloused farmer hands gripping your shoulders. He smells like home, and you take a minute to hug him back.

"Good luck." He says, and without another word, he leaves the kitchen completely. You stand there, in the empty room, taking in what might be your last look at your home.

* * *

You're so relieved when you see her, when she sits down next to you, when she lets you hold her hand. She looks as tired and sad as you're sure you do, but she looks every bit as beautiful as you can remember.

The train feels ghostly, like you can still see the memory of the brightly colored red train housing games of Exploding Snap and chocolate frog eating contests.

The compartment is quiet. Everyone is lost in their own thoughts, their own fears. You wonder what this school year is going to be like. You wonder if your mam's woken up yet and found out that you've run away. You wonder if dad will tell her the truth.

You stare out at the dreary landscape that passes you, letting yourself sink into the seat and breathe for a moment. You squeeze her hand a little tighter, and she squeezes back.

* * *

Hogwarts is hell.

You never thought you'd be thinking that. It has always been, like most, a haven. But the floors are freezing, the dungeons dangerous, and even daylight can't protect you from the things that lurk in the dark.

Everything is too much, extremely loud, and incredibly close. But barren, all at the same time. Snape is headmaster, a fact that even if you had heard it back in first year would have made you incapably angry. Classes aren't really classes anymore, and everything that comes out of your so-called teacher's mouthes is utter bullshit, and makes you want to punch a wall in.

When you go to sleep at night, you find yourself staring at the empty bed to your left.

Dean didn't come back.

You knew he couldn't - he was a muggleborn, not safe anywhere. He was in hiding, but you don't know where. You're plagued with wondering where he is, if he's alright, if he's starving or wounded... or if he's dead.

You miss your best friend.

* * *

You are a soldier, and you serve Dumbledore's Army.

It is only older students - you won't put the young in danger (although they're not really safe now as it is). It is not a club, it is a resistance. You do stupid things like painting graffiti on the walls, defacing personal property, jinxing, and disrupting assemblies.

The actions are insignificant, but it helps you all believe you're still a part of the fight. Anything to show you won't be cowed by the Headmaster and the Carrows.

You start not being able to control your anger. You talk back regularly to the Carrows, insulting them, provoking them. You're furious - livid - and you won't keep it inside.

And maybe, a small part of it is that if it's you that's getting beaten and hurt, then it's not... well, it's not anyone you love.

* * *

"Aye Lav." You croak.

You see her hazily getting out some bandages. Her lips are pursed and she looks angry. She always is.

"Don't 'aye Lav' me." She says.

You laugh softly, but stop when your insides suddenly spasm, and you struggle not to cough. You're covered in scrapes and bruises, face almost unrecognizable, you're sure.

"Yer like me guardian angel." You say as her soft, pale fingers ghost over your black and blue skin. "Fixin' me up 'n keepin' me 'live."

Your vision blurs. Everything aches, painful and sharp but dull and dormant at the same time.

"One of these days you're going to get yourself killed." She says shortly. You can tell she hates bandaging you up, but you secretly love it. Being so close to her, having her make the pain go away is insurmountable.

You take the sleeping potion, gritting your teeth and coughing a little after you down you dose.

You set down the glass on the ground, letting your head loll back on the cot you're laying on. Lavender kneels next to you, looking at you tenderly. She makes you feel calm, you feel your muscles relax as you watch her watch you.

You prop yourself up on your forearm, reaching out and taking her soft chin in your grasp slightly, tilting her face up.

"Yer so pretty Lav." You say. "Merlin, n' bloody hot-t too."

Your mind starts to go hazy, and you don't really register what's coming out of your mouth.

Her brown eyes are wide, and you feel an overwhelming need to be close to her, to feel her against you, to make her feel the way she makes you feel.

Your eyes droop, and you fall asleep with her face in your mind.

* * *

You watch her whenever you can. Taking her in, the white of her teeth, the color of her hair, her lips, her eyes, the slope of her neck, the curve of her hip.

She's gotten thinner, but not healthily. It's sometimes too dangerous to enter the Great Hall, especially unaccompanied, and you've seen her skip meals regularly.

You want to strip everything away, to see her completely emotionally naked. You want to know who she is, because you _know _there's so much more behind her cat-like grin and bubbly giggles. She's becoming someone strong.

* * *

Things go from bad to worse.

You and some other seventh years move into the Room of Requirement permanently, hammocks conveniently springing up to suit the number of people in need of them.

It makes you be able to sleep at least a few hours at night now, instead of laying awake and staring into the echoing, empty dorm with only Neville as company.

You grin as you kick the bottom of Neville's hammock next to you in the dark.

He turns over on his side away from you and mutters, "Bugger off Seamus".

You smile, savoring the moment of normality, and finally drift off to a natural sleep.

* * *

You want her. Badly. And you can't believe that amongst all the pain and suffering happening in the world, you body still reacts when you see her in those ridiculous shorts she sleeps in, insisting that she forgot to bring her pajama pants when she collected her things. Soft, pale legs that you can't help wish were wrapped around you.

The way she sighs and rubs her stiff neck at the end of the day, the way she bites her lip...

You gulp, turning your view away from her and down to some plans of the Hogwarts castle Neville is talking about.

* * *

You spit blood out onto the floor, followed by an actual tooth.

You stare at it dumbly, before another blow hits your stomach. You grit your teeth (those you still have) and try not to feel it, try to ignore it.

You're pushed down, kicked on the back, and your cheek slams into the dungeon floors. Your head starts to ache powerfully, you're drenched in your own blood, your fingers numb. Your vision is almost completely gone. Suddenly, everything lessens. A dulled pain, and things start to get hazier and hazier... almost like a white light...

You open your eyes suddenly.

You're alone in the dungeon now, bleeding through your clothes, brown and dried against your skin.

You think you almost died. And it terrifies you.

* * *

You rub your face tiredly, buttoning up a dirty Oxford shirt and staring into the frosted mirror in the makeshift bathroom that sprouted up when the Gryffindor girls moved in.

You turn abruptly, watching as Lavender crosses the room still in her pajamas, tying up her hair haphazardly as she goes.

Your chest aches. You remember just last night, when you woke up with her at your hammock, her eyes puffy and red-rimmed, her lips tight, and the shake in her whisper.

_"I just... I had a nightmare, and I needed to make sure that... you were still, um, alive."_

And she started to cry, and all you wanted to do was sweep her up into your arms and hold her until she stopped, and hug her and kiss her and love her.

"Can I get my -?"

"Oh. Yeah mate, sorry." You say, moving out of the way of Michael Corner, who grabs his toothbrush off the ledge under the mirror. He looks at you for a moment.

"Tell her." He mutters.

"What?"

He shrugs, letting his gaze shift to Padma Patil standing a few feet away.

"You don't know how much time we all have left."

* * *

She's lying there, completely unconscious and limp and bloodied and anger runs hot through your veins. Her hair is tangled, a scrape over her cheek, bruises all up her arms. She is not smiling or laughing or smirking or pouting, no, her lips are white, and you don't even recognize her as Lavender.

You feel sick, you almost vomit on the floor next to her.

You stare at her in disbelief, you can't move.

And god dammit, if she dies -

No. She won't die.

She wouldn't.

She can't.

* * *

When Demelza finally tells you she woke up, you run to see her as fast as you can.

You hug her, you don't want to let her go, and you feel yourself tell her everything, softly, into her hair. And she's breathing again and that just makes you want to jump for joy.

"You didn't see, Lav, you were all bloodied up, and I was _so_ afraid -"

But suddenly she shoves you away, beating her fists against your chest like a toddler.

"How do you think I feel Seamus Finnigan? I have to see you looking worse than this on a daily basis!" She looks as if she might cry again. She's so... so broken, and you want desperately to take the pain away, but you just _can't _and - "What if one of these days, _you don't come back?"_

And you stop, the words branding a tattoo into your skin. If you don't come back. If you never see daylight again.

If you die.

"Lavender - "

She falls against your chest dejectedly, and you let her cling to you, and listen to your chest and your heartbeat as you bury your nose in her hair and pray you never have to see her cry again.

* * *

You know you aren't supposed to be here. You know you're breaking about fifty different rules. You know you could get punished severely for this.

You don't care.

You're so bloody angry but you can't even do anything about it. You feel stifled and suffocated and _pissed off _all the fucking time.

You stare out of the window, air cold around you. You stare blankly out the window into the darkened trees.

You feel warm fingers clasp yours, and you know just from the sound of her footsteps and her smell that it's Lavender.

"It's not safe to be here."

"You're here. Wherever you are, I'm safe." She says.

You remember, painfully, seeing her close to death on the stretcher in the Room of Requirement. You failed her. You didn't keep her safe.

"I can't always protect you Lavender."

Your thumb moves across the back of her hand. "You think we could ever just run away?"

"You don't want to do that. You're too much of a fighter."

"Says you."

She scoffs, shaking her head. "I'm no warrior."

You turn towards her completely. The moonlight from the window clings to her hair, her cheeks, her eyelashes, her lips. And you just sort of _see _her for a moment, as if everything she is flashes across her face in an instant. She's changed so much this year. Everyone has. She's so strong, and she doesn't even know it.

"Lavender Brown, you are one of the bravest people I know." You utter.

She looks at you for what feels like an hour, her big brown eyes unblinking, but you know couldn't have been more than a few seconds.

She takes a fistful of your shirt and pulls you down suddenly, pressing her lips roughly to yours.

All the pent up want in your chest explodes as you move your lips against hers, and your heart takes off like a rabbit, and you drag your hands down her arms and to her hips, gripping them hard. And her hands wind around the hair at the bottom of your neck, twisting and pulling and making you want to shudder.

You wrench your lips away from hers and jump down to her neck, and _Merlin_ how is it possible that her skin is so bloody _soft? _You bury your face in her silky hair, nuzzling his nose against the skin under her jaw. Her hands grip the back of your head hard and tangle in your hair, and you suck the skin under her ear and she moves against you, sighing and letting out a moan right into your ear, and you almost accidentally bite a chunk out of her neck. She pulls you back up to her lips. And you press closer and closer, pulling her flush against you, feeling every delicious curve of her body.

Finally, the two of you break away. You want to remember the way she looked forever, chest heaving, lips swollen, hair ruffled.

All because of you.

* * *

And you're together now.

Well, as "together" as one can be, in the circumstances.

You eat your meals together (you make sure she eats three times a day). You snog whenever you can. She holds your hand under the desk in all your classes.

She keeps you sane.

* * *

Your mam would have told you to bring a jacket.

You stand in only a shirt, shivering, staring out at the Forbidden Forest from the edge.

The trees seem like they cry to you, cry of home.

You think of the cozy house, with the circle rugs and the crackling fireplace, and running in from outside tracking mud in the front hallway, and your mam yelling and scolding you but giving you hot chocolate anyway, and Ferguson and Maddy and Fina and dad.

You're ripped out of the painful thoughts by Lavender's presence next to you.

"I haven't been outside in two months. _Two months. _Mam says fresh air is good for the soul, cleanses ya' of all typs'a inner demons."

You take a breath, catching yourself before a tear falls. In the end, you're just a lost boy still clinging to mam.

"I spent most a' me childhood outside. Flyin', runnin', chasin'." You remember it all, home comes back to you all at once. "Lush, rollin' green hills, thas' what Ireland's like. Well a'course, not all of it, but where me home is. You ever been?"

She shakes her head slowly.

"It's beautiful." You whisper.

And suddenly, you can see yourself, sitting a wood chair on the back porch, whiskey in hand, feet kicked up. Your hand in Lavender's, and she smiles as your kids horse around and shout and laugh on the grass in front of you, and the sun shines down making the ground almost sparkle, and everything is yellow and green and pink and clear.

You look into her eyes, and as if making a promise, you say, "I'm goin' ta take you there. Once we escape this hellhole."

She smiles, but it there is sadness behind it. "I'd really like that."

* * *

Her fingertips caress your chest, her hair splayed out over her shoulders. Your arms encircle her, and the two of you cling to each other in the dark. She pushes herself closer to you, and you feel yourself tightening your grip on her. You don't want her to blow away.

"Seamus?" She whispers.

"Yeah?"

There's a pause, enough for the silence to fill it, before she says, "I'm scared."

It is so bare, so honest, that it catches you off guard. You reply, without thinking about it, "Me too."

* * *

(Lavender Brown)

Your body flies backwards, and you are falling. You feel weightless, your arms and legs claw at the air. Your back hits the floor hard, you hear your spine crack. There's shooting pain from your shoulder blades to your feet, your eyes feel like they're about to explode inside your head and your skin erupts in burning, itching, and it's ripping, it's ripping off. You can't feel your fingers or your toes, and sharp laughter and your heart pounding rings in your ears... and for a moment everything just slows down and the pain starts to dull you can't feel anything anymore.

And suddenly you see everything. You see your entire short life before your eyes, every moment of pain and regret and anxiety and happiness and calm, and your mother and father and Eloise and Parvati and Seamus. And you see everything you want but haven't gotten yet, everything that you wished to have.

Before you know it, you're falling again, the dark suffocating you and swallowing you up whole.

* * *

(Seamus Finnigan)

It's over.

You clink your glass exhaustedly with Dean's, allowing yourself an exasperated chuckle as you take in his tired face, glad that you finally see him again. You want to tell him about everything that happened while he was gone, with Lavender, but there will be time for that later.

The weight is lifted off your shoulders. You can smile now.

You see Parvati emerge into the Great Hall, and Dean jumps from his seat, running towards her unabashedly, pulling her into a hug. She doesn't put her arms around him, only stands there rigidly.

He moves away and you ask "Hey Parvati, 'you seen Lavender?"

She says nothing, just stares at you silently, and every second that goes by your heart drops a little more, and her mouth crumples and tears fall.

You can't breathe

"Parvati, where is she?" You ask, voice steady. You fists curl around the bottom of your shirt for something to hold onto. "_Where is she?_"

You look around at the wounded, looking for her face... but she isn't there. You search around blindly, asking anyone if they've seen her, but everyone only gives you a soft "no".

But _finally_ you see her, a nurse bending over her and slowly wrapping bandages around her legs. You walk over to her, feet made of lead, and you almost choke when you see her. Skin ripped away, bones even visible in places. Her hair is tangled and frayed, cheeks and lips white with no blood or color or _life._

You ignore the look of sympathy you get from the nurse, but hold onto her tired voice whispering, "She's still breathing. She's still alive. She's holding on."

* * *

**A/N: **OK! Well, obviously, this is an enormously outrageously long chapter (the longest thing I've ever posted on here actually), but I figured it would be since so much happened during seventh year. I know it's also been a really long time since I've updated, and I apologize, and thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter.

* * *

**_Please review!_**


	9. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

* * *

(Seamus Finnigan)

_There is a girl with her her blond hair all up in a silk, pink ribbon. Her dress is plush pink, hanging off her body gracefully. Hair rustling in the warm, spring breeze, moving through dark blond sand like the wind of time. She sits in the middle of a vast, green meadow that goes on forever. She sets her hand down behind her, turning her head elegantly, meeting your eyes. She looks at you with deep brown eyes, they twinkle like they've got the most delicious secret in the world. She is frosted over, like she's covered in a sheen. Her persimmon lips curve upward with a feral smile. She lets her head fall back slowly, and she laughs a musical, harp laugh. Sunlight clings to every part of her, making her shine from the inside out._

_She crooks a finger, beckoning you over to her. You feel yourself move forward, as if you can't control it. She is laughter, she is happiness, she is light. Close, you need to be close to her._

_Suddenly, the sky turns an angry dark gray, clouds spitting thunderous yells. Large, black trees grow out of nowhere, all around her. __Something moves behind them, the leaves crunching. The girl is no longer smiling. She looks around, frightens, and opens her mouth to speak. A dark, black shadow tackles her, bringing her down to the ground and then disappearing. The girl screams in terror, cutting through your very bones. You run to her, run towards where she used to be, but there is nothing left except the echo of her scream. She slips through your fingers as you claw at the leftover shadows. The trees begin to grow under your feet and you are brought up to the furious black clouds. You shrink away, but there is nowhere to go._

_You are incased in cold, empty dark with screams, deafening you as thunder rumbles from inside your heart._

You wake up suddenly, gasping and sweating. You turn over off the couch and vomit onto the floor, clutching your stomach and knocking over the bottle with your foot. Muggle scotch spills in a puddle as you fall back, squeezing your eyes shut painfully.

* * *

You feel dead on your feet, even though all you've done all day is throw a quaffle around with Hastings in the desk over and compare hosting prices for minor Quidditch series'. You didn't get much sleep last night, though you never really do.

You tug at your work robes. Even though you work for the Department of Magical Games and Sports, which is the most relaxed part of the Ministry, you still have to wear them every day. Regulation, and all.

You feel like you might as well be drowning.

But it's almost the end of the day, almost time to leave, almost time for the Floo to Mungo's.

Your gaze darts over to the picture of her habitually.

Parvati gave it to you, after saying that she had far too many and thought you could take some. You took a few greedily, but all the while thinking it was no substitute for the real talking, laughing, breathing one.

It's during fifth year, sometime during the winter. She's wearing her pink winter coat and white knit hat, her hair curling around her red cheeks. She laughs, throwing her head back as if she'd just heard the funniest thing in the world. You keep it in your pocket, always, and now it sits on the desk in front of you.

Your fingertips brush the edges, and you lay your head down on the desk dejectedly looking the other way.

You were supposed to protect her, and you let her almost die. Looking at her, even in a photograph, fills you to the brim with heartache. Seeing her every day lying in a hospital bed, barely breathing is almost unbearable.

But you can't stand not to see her, not to be there for her. So you let yourself be consumed by regret and you're reminded of your failure as a man, because you know that if she woke up and you weren't there, you would never forgive yourself as long as you lived.

* * *

"Here." You throw Dean his jacket as he gets ready to head out.

He threads a scarf around his neck, asking, "Not coming tonight?"

You shake your head, staring down at a purple splotch of paint the hard-wood floor of your shared flat from an assignment in Dean's art class.

"Come on. Neither Parvati or I would mind it." He says, throwing his keys into his pocket. "Really mate."

But you shake your head, because you know he's just trying to be a good friend. You know he wants to be alone with Parvati tonight, as they've been getting serious lately. Being third wheel to them, no matter how much you like both of them, would just depress you more than staying home again and trying in vain to fall asleep early.

Dean leaves, you retreat to your room and stare at the ceiling for what feels like hours. You've been to see Lavender today, so like usual, she captures your mind. And like all nights, every time you start to drift off, you relive the entire battle in a flash. Parvati's been going to these counselling sessions offered for those involved in the war, telling him that it's good for people with "post-traumatic stress disorder". You can't bring yourself to go, much less hear or speak about it at all.

A long time later you hear the door close, and hear a girl giggle. It's hardly the first time Dean has brought Parvati back to the flat, but you stuff your face into the pillow and are glad no one can see your tears. You are happy for them, but you can't help wishing, completely selfishly, you had your girl back instead.

* * *

"Shit." You grunt to yourself, shoving the bloody miniscule brush back into the bottle and using your own finger to wipe away the excess red that's not on the nail.

"Need help?" The nurse called Elsa asks, amusedly looking down at you while closing the curtains.

You shake your head, because you're determined to finish the task. You know you probably look like a giant tit, putting nail polish on a girl's fingernails, something that a mom or sister or friend should do. And maybe it won't even make a difference. But you remember her saying that she loved red nail polish, and you know she would probably hate the state of her nails now if she could see them.

The healers told you only three days ago that they predicted she'd wake up very soon, saying that she's moved in her sleep enough to deduce that she could even be active again within the week. It still hasn't sunk in yet, the idea of finally having Lavender back in your life. It had been a little over sixth months since you'd last spoken to her, since you last heard her laugh.

You look sadly over her scars, scars that will never fade. Not because you think they mar her beautiful face, in a way they show who she is much better than the flawless-skinned face she had before, but because you know that she'll be devastated when she sees them.

So you paint her nails, so she'll feel pretty when she wakes up.

* * *

(Lavender Brown)

Your eyes open slowly, taking in the surroundings. Sunlight streams in from a window next to you, cloying to the soft cream-colored walls. Your head rests on what feels like a couple fluffy pillows, and you are covered by white, sheer blankets. You're in a bed, in the middle of a small white room with seemingly nothing but the bed you're on and a white chair, sitting emptily next to you.

_Am I dead? _You ask to yourself.

You try to move your neck, but only get a couple centimeters before pain shoots up your spine. You look down at your fingernails, which have been sloppily painted red. Your eyes move up to your arm, where you can see a long, white scar.

Tears prick your eyes. So it wasn't a dream. Everything that happened is actually real, and if you have scars on your arms, you definitely have them everywhere else too. You feel selfish, crying about having some scars when you know many must be injured much worse, or even dead.

But you cry anyway.

Your hair hasn't been brushed in a good long while, and your lips feel cracked and dry. You concentrate on breathing, because you sob a little too hard and lost your breath. Slow, deep breaths.

Suddenly, the white door on the side of your small little room swings open, and two women in what looks like nursing uniforms walk in. One with gray hair and wrinkles around her eyes takes a vase off the windowsill next to you, dumping out the flowers and replacing them with vibrant, fresh ones. The other nurse, with brown hair up in a tight bun, straightens the chair, and then meets your eyes.

She smiles a kind smile. "Oh, Miss Brown, you're awake!" She looks at her watch. "He'll be here in... well, I'll say about twenty minutes."

"Who?" You ask hazily. You inwardly wince at your voice, it sounds croaky and disgusting, definitely not melodic or soft.

"The boy for goodness sake! Oh, Elsa, what's his name?" The gray haired one calls to the other nurse.

"Er... Seamus Finnigan." The nurse says, looking at the chart next to your bedside.

Your heart drops at the sound of his name.

"Has he been asking for me?" You selfisly blurt.

"Oh honey, he's been here every day since you've been brought in. Always at ten after five, always stays until we have to kick him out."

You don't say anything else. You thought you were dead. That you'd never see _anything _again, let alone _Seamus. _Your heart still jumps with the thought of seeing him, even if you are merely shreds of a body.

The two nurses bustle around the room for a bit. You should ask them how bad the injuries are, but you can't bring yourself to vocalize it. You almost don't want to know, because if they're as bad as you think, no one will ever want to look at you again. You blink your eyes painfully.

The door opens suddenly.

You almost consider shutting your eyes and pretending you're asleep, you're not ready to talk to him, but you can't take your gaze off him. He looks older, stubble dotting his chin, and in black work robes. His hair is longer than you remember, flopping back into his eyes as he picks up the sign-in sheet next to your room door.

His Irish lilt makes your heart soar, just to hear the way he speaks again. "Elsa, Marie, good to see you both again, you wouldn't believe the day I've had at work today - "

His eyes meet yours, and the clipboard drops loudly on the floor.

In a second, he's right next to you, his rough hands clasping your face, his eyes staring into yours. You smell his scent once more, wrapping around you in the most delightful way.

"Lavender, you're... you're..." He touches every bit of your face with his fingertips and then traveling down to hold your hand tightly. He pulls the chair from behind him right up next to your bedside. "You're..." He kisses your hand, over and over again.

"Hi." You manage to croak out. Your voice is heavy.

"Merlin, I didn't... you... I was so worried that you would be gone forever, that you'd never wake up..." He whispers desperately. "It's all my fault, I said I would protect you, Lavender, I'm so sorry..."

And suddenly he's crying, crying real actual tears, whispering over and over that he was sorry. You tell him it's alright, it's ok, that you don't blame him, please. It's the first time you've ever seen him cry, and your heart feels like it might collapse in on itself.

So you throw all your strength into lifting your arms to him, and he leans over to hug you again. His tears land on your face, your neck, and your shoulders. He whispers over and over, like a chant, that he loves you.

* * *

(Seamus Finnigan)

The first time she steps into your room, it feels like a dream.

She's here. She's awake. She's speaking and walking and _breathing_. You help her up the rickety stairs to the third floor where the flat is. She goes slowly. There is no railing, you think dumbly. Maybe you should have put one in.

Your chest hurts when you see that she walks with somewhat of a limp now. It's because of the bandages she wears, but they'll be able to come off in a few weeks, the healers say. She looks like every step aches. You focus on getting your keys out.

* * *

She lives with you now. You wonder if her family knows what's going on, if they're even still around. She never talks about them.

But you love her staying with you. Her warm body against yours every night. She's the light in the dark when you wake up in a panicked sweat. And you're there for her when her wracked sobs echo around the room and she can't seem to forget the sights that plague the both of you.

She makes you breakfast sometimes. Before work. She watches you get ready, and you leave her in the empty flat. It's a struggle to get out the door everyday, but you know that if you don't you won't have a flat to leave her in at all. Sometimes Parvati stays over and the four of them have dinner together. So normal, like a once-imagined dream of their grown-up lives together.

You see her looking in the mirror, eyes cold and harsh in scrutiny of her bare torso. So you kiss her and tell her how beautiful she is every day, and you hope sometime she'll understand that it's the truth.

* * *

You read through the Quidditch scores like every morning. Wasps beat the Magpies in a crushing win of 320 to 60 which was unsurprising due to the Wasps new trade.

"Where are you going?"

She stops rigidly, hand tightening on the handle of her suitcase.

"Traveling." She replies shortly.

"Traveling? Where would you be traveling?" You ask, folding the newspaper and laying it on the table. She moves out the door, and you run to catch her on the stairs. You reach out, grasping her forearm. "Hey, Lavender, wait. What's going on?"

"I've just... I've got to leave."

"Leave?"

She lets out a short breath, like releasing too much air will release everything she's trying so hard to hold back.

"I try to ignore the looks when I step outside, naive children pointing at me, and the polite and embarrassed apology that then follows from their mothers. But I'm _damaged goods_. "

"Lav - " You call to stop her. She continues down the stairs, and you follow her as she runs down them so fast she holds her hand against the wall for support in substitution for the non-existent railing.

"And then there's you, and you've got a shot at a normal life, a happy life. You've got it all worked out, a job, a flat, money, you've grown up without me. I've got nothing, I'm basically homeless, I've got no NEWTs, no experience, and now even my looks are gone."

"Hey. Hey." You say softly, stopping her again and cupping her face in your hands. You try to reassure her as best you can. "I love you. You've got me."

She pushes away from you, making her way down the front steps, outside into the fall air.

"You think you still love me now, and you say you always will... but that's just because when you look at me you see who I used to be. A few years later, the memory won't be enough for you, and you'll come to resent me, but you're a good guy and won't leave me because I'm basically crippled, so you'll just let yourself die inside. I won't be the one who brings you down, I won't be the one who kills you, I can't - "

"Shut up."

And she looks at you with anger and confusion in her eyes, and you know she's in pain, so much pain, and you don't know if you can fix it. But god dammit she can't leave. You won't lose her again.

"Do you ever think I would have been able to live with myself if you had died? I was supposed to protect you. And I failed. But somehow, by a miracle, I got you back. I'm not fucking letting you go again. Not now, not ever."

She says nothing, but you step up next to her, pulling her down into a kiss. And she clings to you, letting her silent tears wet the front of your shirt.

* * *

You open your eyes blearily as she traces invisible patterns across your chest. You shift, and she looks up at your with her deep brown eyes. Sun shines through the cheap curtains in your room and makes her blond hair look weightless.

You've finally got all the time in the world, just to lay in a warm bed with her on a Sunday morning, lay for hours and breathe. Your hand trails over her bare shoulder and then up her neck. She tilts her head up and kisses you lazily, a change from the hungry, frantic kisses from late last night.

"Hi." You whisper.

"Hi." She whispers back, kissing your collarbone.

Her blond hair drags across your chest as she rises, wincing as she stands up.

"What's the matter?" You ask worriedly, reaching out to steady her.

She only smirks at you. "Nothing. Just a little sore, you know, from last night."

"Did I hurt you?"

"No." She replies. With a cheeky smile, "It was brilliant."

You grin arrogantly, leaning back with your hands over your head. "Oh."

She falls back onto the bed, hitting against your chest. "Shut up." She kisses you chastely once, twice, and then pulls away again.

"I'm going to take a shower."

"Want company?"

She says nothing, so you jump out of bed and follow her into the living room (well, if the room that isn't yours or Dean's can be called that), tackling her on her way past the couch.

"Seamus! Bugger off!"

* * *

It's been a year since she came back to you. Her limp is gone, the shallow cuts closed up. Most of the scars, though, won't heal.

You take her to the seaside for a week during the summer. You hear her saying that she always wanted to go when she was younger but her parents never took her. It takes a significant chuck out of your savings, but it's worth it.

And she's lovely. She blossoms here. She runs across the long, gray, sandy beach chasing the seagulls. Her bare feet barely touch the sand as she sails after them, just for the hell of it, just to run. Her gold hair splashes color against the landscape.

And you run after her, like you always will be, chasing her. And you're both laughing, really laughing, for the first time in a while.

And then you sit together, squeezed into the same beach chair, the cold ocean coming up to bite your toes. But you don't mind because she's breathing steady and she isn't wearing a million layers and you can see her skin and she smells like flowers and salt and the sea.

"Don't you wish you could just go back?" She suddenly whispers. "Back to when we hadn't lost _anything_?"

"Yeah. But we can't." You say.

"Everything is gone now. Lost."

"No. Not everything."

"I know. But rebuilding hurts." She says. "Hold me, will you?"

"'Course." You wrap your arms around her.

"And... thanks, Seamus." Her head leans against your chest.

"For what?"

"For not letting me run. And for taking care of me. And for loving me." She says against your neck.

* * *

(Lavender Brown)

You stare at yourself in the mirror every morning now. Analyze yourself, every single line and flake and crinkle and scrape... and scar. You focus and refocus your eyes back and forth, hoping to stop noticing them, but you can't.

You can see Seamus watching you in the morning while he gets ready for work, looking at you with concerned eyes.

You know he was hurt by the war as well. He's got permanent markings and scars that will never heal, just as you do. He has nightmares too.

But you can't talk about it with him. Maybe you're too afraid, maybe it's too painful, or maybe you're afraid to crack the precarious, fragile life that you've lived ever since you woke up in that hospital bed.

He lets you stay at his flat. You're got nothing, no money, no job, but he says nothing.

A nagging voice says it's because you're crippled, and who's going to kick out a cripple?

* * *

It takes you two months and twelve days to get outside.

Seamus forces you.

You plead "Don't make me."

"Come on, fresh air is good for you. Sunlight. Other people." He pushes gently.

He helps you down the stairs, because you can't even fucking walk normally. You'll never wear high heels again, much less strut the way you used to. You would be angrier, but his gentle grasp on your elbow is too calming.

The sun beats down on you. It's too light here, everything too visible. You're withering, every step you take, you feel worse and worse.

Seamus doesn't let go of you, though, even when he has to lean back to lock the door.

You try to focus on him, and how the sunbeams get stuck in his fly-aways or the way he squints his eyes to look up at the sky.

But then, suddenly, everyone is staring at you. Every kid they pass points, every parent steers their child away. You're disgusting. You're a public menace, about to be arrested for disturbing the peace. Ugly things should be locked away.

"Lavender." He speaks softly into your ear, but you can't, you can't do it, and you break away from him, pathetically hobbling away as fast as you can, back to the flat, and then you reach the door and you realize that you don't even have the fucking _key _so you can't get in, and you stand there like an idiot waiting for Seamus to catch up with you.

Your back hits the door and you slide down into a ball, under the partial shade coming from the ledge above.

* * *

You grit your teeth and force it down, making yourself smile up at his hopeful face.

But he sees right through you, and you hate that he knows you so well.

"It's shit?"

You put your fork down, saying, "No, no, it's... well, yeah, it is."

His shoulders droop, and he moves around the kitchen table to lean against the counter, his back to you. You feel a little like a bitch, that you couldn't lie well enough.

You're touched that he even tried to cook dinner for you. You stare down at the burnt steak in front of you, and feel yourself smile a little.

So you creep up behind him. He's wearing his ratty Kenmare Kestrels t-shirt, the tag sticking out the back, with a pair of ripped jeans he must have changed into after work. But you like him this way just as much as you like him in a tie. You like him always, actually.

You hug him from behind, your body pressing against his, and you bite his shoulder playfully, smiling when he turns around and kisses you.

You kiss him back, and he picks you up, hands gripping your ass and shoving you onto the counter, attacking your neck with his lips and he drags his teeth along your skin, giving you shivers. You hook your legs around his hips, and it makes you shiver when he drags his fingers down your thighs.

And it's ok that you'll have to eat the leftovers in the back of the fridge that have probably been there for weeks, because he tastes better than anything.

* * *

"Um so... so..." He gulps. "Sorry, I'm nervous."

Your heart is pounding, you can't breathe, and he's holding your hands and gathering up his courage. You're standing outside the flat (after a walk - you can make it three blocks now, a small accomplishment), going to grab your keys, when he stopped you and took your hand.

It's early morning on a Saturday, and he's still got bed head (there's a piece of his hair that, no matter what, will always stick up in the back - he has to comb it down). He looks panicked, and you just want to hug him because his voice is almost trembling.

"I'm not great with words... but I guess you know that."

You breathe a laugh, and his laugh follows.

"...so...so I'll just ask."

He takes a deep breath and your throat is almost closing up and you might cry and your emotions are everywhere, the way that only he has the power to induce. He's the only person that could ever do this to you because you care about him _so much_, and you want to spend the rest of your life with him.

"Lavender Brown, will you - "

"Yes!"

"- marry me?"

"Yes, yes, of course Seamus, of course - " He cuts you off by smashing your lips with his and it's all toothy and messy but it doesn't matter because your head is screaming and you can't remember the last time you were this happy... ever.

* * *

(Seamus Finnigan)

She's gorgeous.

Her blond hair is combed all to one side, threaded with tiny white flowers to match the white lace of her dress. She wanted to wear a long-sleeved dress, but it was summer, and he insisted he wanted to be able to _see _her. You wished she wouldn't cover up.

And she didn't. The sweetheart neckline of the dress fits her perfectly, and she's captivating as she walks down the aisle on your da's arm. You feel like you can't breathe, like her short walk from the back of the room to where you are is a mile.

But then she's here and you're holding her hands as she smiles back at you.

And you can't believe that she's yours.

The priest is dithering on about something, and then she looks at you expectantly, and a moment passes.

"Oh, sorry, yeah, 'course I do."

The guests laugh, but you only care about her next words.

"I do."

"You may - " And before the priest can even finish his sentence, you're sweeping her up in your arms and kissing her. Kissing your _wife, _and you're alive and she's alive and you're together.

* * *

The porch chair creaks back and forth. Ice chips clink in a glass of whiskey. Lush, green hills sprawl out in front of you, dotted with trees in the distance. You stretch your arms over your head and your legs out in front of you, closing your eyes and feeling the warm sun on your face.

"This is the good life."

"For _you_ anyway. This little bugger is insuring me that I can't have _any _fun." Lavender quips, looking sidelong at the glass in your hand.

You glance down at her humongous stomach. She's been ready to pop for ages, and you're impatient. You want to see your baby!

"How are you feeling today?"

"Fat."

"You don't look it."

She shoots you a glare, and you laugh heartily, taking her hand and squeezing it.

You wish you could freeze time and live in this moment - in your home, with your baby, and your girl. You will protect them and love them - forever. You look at your wife, sitting across from you. She looks beautiful here, a blossoming flower among the gorgeous Irish landscape.

"Hey. What?" She asks you. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Nothing. I just love you."

She smiles warmly, leaning over and kissing your cheek. "I love you too."

And that's all you ever needed.

* * *

**A/N: **So. The end.

I know I seriously neglected this piece, but I just finished it anyway and decided to post it. If anyone still follows this story, I'm sorry I let it go so long.

So here's some closure. They lived long, happy lives and so did their three children.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed that chapter (forever ago) and I hope anyone reading this enjoyed the ending. I know I enjoyed finally finishing it (◡‿◡✿)

* * *

**_Please review!_**


End file.
